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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26126620">29 Bad Decisions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merrianna/pseuds/Merrianna'>Merrianna</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwise_baggins/pseuds/samwise_baggins'>samwise_baggins</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwise_baggins/pseuds/SpeedBurn'>SpeedBurn (samwise_baggins)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Speed Burn [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>CSI: Miami</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adopted Children, Child Death, Crime Scenes, Drunk Driving, Gen, Graphic Description, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Medical Trauma, Minor Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:54:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,411</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26126620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merrianna/pseuds/Merrianna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwise_baggins/pseuds/samwise_baggins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwise_baggins/pseuds/SpeedBurn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>New Year’s Eve can be considered the worst night for American law enforcement, right next to the Fourth of July, and Miami's just about to find out what <i>’worst’</i> really means.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Speedle/Original Female Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Speed Burn [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/525127</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Endings (prologue)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>DEATH and violence: this involves a severe car accident and the consequences of drunk driving!<br/>.<br/>Spoiler: Yeah, seasons 1 – 4 of CSI: Miami.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Saturday Night, December 31, 2005: Miami:</p>
<p>Laughter, lively chatter, and festive music mixed into a joyous cacophony as the party blurred out the sounds of the television reporter <i>'live from Times Square.'</i> Colorful costumes blended as party guests moved among each other, dressed for a night of revelry ringing in the New Year with good friends and good food. No one begrudged the comings and goings of people stopping by to say <i>'hello’</i> then leaving to go to another party, though mild protests accompanied those who did choose to move on. The front door was barely visible amid the revelers, but those closest finally gave up on persuading the latest guests from leaving. A laughing, friendly baritone could barely be heard as a man said, "I'll drive them home and be right back. She can come get her car tomorrow or have it towed."</p>
<p>"Can I come too, Daddy?" The plaintive note of a pre-adolescent boy drew little attention from the main gathering. This party had many children guests; it was a strictly alcohol-free costume party for families hosted by a beloved local doctor and her family.</p>
<p>The man, dressed as a rather suave Dracula, laughed and rested a dark-skinned hand on the head of the gaudily dressed clown. "Not this time, Sport. I need you to host this party while I play chauffeur. Keep an eye on your mom and sister for me."</p>
<p>A woman facing the door, dressed in an iconic pink belly-dancer costume complete with a small hat and half-veil, reached over and pulled the boy back against her scantily clad body. Her long black hair swished over her buttocks, even up in the traditional top-knot ponytail. She reached out a smooth, dark-skinned hand to lie on her husband's tuxedo sleeve. "Hurry back, Baby. Be safe."</p>
<p>With a laugh, he captured her hand and brought it to his lips, his warm chocolate eyes steady on her. Kissing her hand, he flipped it to expose her wrist and placed his lips gently on the smooth skin there. "I vill hurry as qvickly as possible," he said in an over-emphasized Bela Lagosi accent, wrecking the image by adding, "Doll."</p>
<p>Her musical laughter drew answering smiles from the closest guests. Her face was blocked from view as she stood with her back to the room, but no one could doubt her joy and love, especially the man who held her hand.</p>
<p>Slowly, the man dropped his wife's hand and called loudly, "Till we meet again, my friends! C'mon, Cap'n! Yer longboat awaits!" He winked at his wife.</p>
<p>A blue-eyed boy dressed as a pirate captain, complete with a grand, plumed hat and an eye patch, ran past the man towards the blue station wagon in the driveway, his pale skin limned briefly in the streetlight. He carried a plastic broadsword with a plastic knife buckled to his waist, and he swung a small gaily decorated gift bag in his eager grasp.</p>
<p>Following closely behind, laughing and fighting a yawn, a little girl dressed in a long sparkling pale blue dress and fairy wings followed the pirate. A twinkling tiara glittered in her long red-blonde curls, bouncing with each skipping step. The girl, too, carried a small gift bag, received at the party. She listened attentively as the boy went off into a wild story of how pirates might have celebrated the changing of the year, blue eyes avidly following his every movement.</p>
<p>Bringing up the rear walked a petite woman dressed in a long, slimming silver-white dress and silver heels, her long black hair gathered carefully over one arm to prevent tripping. For those in the know, she portrayed Crystal Gayle, complete with floor-length wig, which she left in place as she climbed into the front passenger seat. She turned and waved out the window. "Thanks for inviting us," she called in a light, almost girlish voice. The woman turned to make sure the children were belted properly into their seats; the little girl was still small enough to require a booster seat which the older boy helped her with.</p>
<p>Turning back to smile at his wife and son once more, the man murmured, "You know I love you three." He touched his wife's cheek, running his finger lightly down the soft skin and skirting the edge of her veil. Those behind her watched her hair swing over her shapely curves, the hair-extensions blending seamlessly with her natural locks, as she leaned into the caress. He continued, "I'll be back before the ball drops, Doll."</p>
<p>"You do that, Baby," she replied, her smile evident in her voice as she watched her husband get into the car and buckle up. As he drove away, a little girl's voice from the crowd called "hey! Where's Daddy going?"</p>
<p>Without turning, the woman called back on a sigh, "to drive Susie and the kids back home. Her car broke down, Baby." She reached out and shut the door on the lukewarm Miami night and added, "I'll let you both stay up for the ball drop if you promise to go to bed right after the kissing."</p>
<p>"Kissing?" the little boy groaned in disgust. "Who wants to waste time kissing?"</p>
<p>The woman laughed back. "Kissing those you love isn't a waste of time, Baby. It's a gift to enjoy."</p>
<p>"If you say so, Mommy."</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <b>**********</b>
  </p>
</div>In the back of the station wagon, one excited, tired little boy began yet another story about some foreign tradition for the New Year. He mentioned dragons, eliciting a thrilled gasp from the little girl followed by a giggle and a soft, "real dragons?"<p>From the front seat the woman, still in her wig and savoring the party atmosphere as long as possible, called back cheerfully, "Wow! They must take a lot of feeding. Can you imagine cleaning up after a dragon?"</p>
<p>The driver joined the laughter.</p>
<p>He pulled the car onto South Miami Avenue behind another, lighter, blue station wagon. Traffic seemed heavy that close to the year change; a purple compact car pulled in behind the station wagon.</p>
<p>"Jeffrey," the bewigged Susie glanced behind nervously, her little-girl voice hitching in worry. "Maybe we should pull over and let the traffic lighten? New Year's is pretty big on drunk driving."</p>
<p>With a small nod, Jeffrey reached up and loosened the collar of his Dracula cape. "That's why I chose this route. It's a little longer but out of the main flow. Not many people come down here at night."</p>
<p>A flash of light from behind signaled someone wanted to pass. The little boy glanced out the window and breathed "cool," as a motorcycle with two people passed them. The small vehicle went at a reasonable speed but was soon ahead of them, apparently looking for an opening to pass the other station wagon as well.</p>
<p>"When I grow up, I'm gonna get a motorcycle," the boy announced in a very sure tone.</p>
<p>Susie laughed. "You are, are you? Will you give me a ride on it?"</p>
<p>"Sure will," he called back.</p>
<p>"Look to the right, kids," added Jeffrey. "The Science Museum is going to pass soon. It's still got its holiday light show on."</p>
<p>"Whoa!" The boy turned to look, excitement radiating through his body.</p>
<p>Glancing back with a fond smile, Susie noted the little girl had drifted into a peaceful slumber. The happy woman grinned wider as she noticed the boy covering an inadvertent yawn. "Looks like you might miss the ball drop, kiddo," she said with a wink.</p>
<p>He shook his head, catching his hat as it started to slip. "Nah. Dad'll let me stay up."</p>
<p>Laughing, Jeffrey shook his head. "But I . . ." The loud, deep honking of a tractor-trailer cut him off.</p>
<p>"What the hell!" Jeffrey gripped the wheel firmly, ready to avoid the huge passing vehicle. He shouldn't have worried about that: the strike, when it came, was from the rear.</p>
<p>The station wagon careened off to the right, into the beautiful stone wall that lined the almost deserted street. A speeding black blur slammed its way through to the other station wagon and past then continued on, unheeding anything or anyone that got in its way. The other family car also hit the wall, its car lights shining on the festively lit sign of the Miami Science Museum a few hundred yards in front of it. The sound of ripping, grinding steel overtook the night for several minutes amid honking and screams.</p>
<p>Quiet settled over the scene broken immediately by a demanding woman's voice calling into the darkness. "Hello, this is On-Star. We see your car has been in a front-end collision. Do you need help?"</p>
<p>A second voice filled the air, as if in response from a great distance: a woman screaming, drawing breath, then screaming once more, over and over. Panic rose in her tones with each ear-piercing, wordless call.</p>
<p>In the lead station wagon, a small blonde girl gingerly pressed the safety release on her seatbelt then cried out in a sudden rush of pain. She called, "Mommy?" but got no answer, except for the screaming of the woman and the persistent operator. Crawling slowly over the coffee holder between the front seats, the little girl slid into the front passenger seat. She looked up at the steady bright light from the console above her head. "Help us! We hit the museum," she answered the operator's frantic questions.</p>
<p>Immediately, the operator replied, "we're sending help. Talk to me, honey. What's your name?"</p>
<p>The girl shifted, pain lacerating her middle, and she passed out, her head hitting the dashboard. As her body slumped, she inadvertently hit the radio button, the volume increasing.</p>
<p>As the traditional song marking endings and beginnings played out, a male's voice shook through the air. "Breaker one-nine, breaker one-nine, we have a pile-up on South Miami Avenue." His voice broke as he added, "there are casualties. I swear they're dead!"</p>
<p>From the lofty height of the eighteen-wheeler, it became evident that a pick-up truck and a compact car had crashed with the Mack Truck. A fourth, unidentifiable vehicle had been caught in the middle of the mess, crushed under and between the others, with two station wagons crumpled against the museum ground's wall. The trucker was certain he'd run over a small car in the chaos. His hands shook as much as his voice as he continued to call for help over his CB radio and listen to the near-panicked voice of a woman from below calling for someone to answer her.</p>
<p>Behind the semi, someone dialed on a cell phone, the electronic beeps discordant with the waning bars of the holiday song from a lone radio: "We'll share a cup of kindness yet and drink to <i>auld lang syne</i>."</p>
<p>Cheerfully, Regis Philbin's voice rang out over the scene of the accident. "Happy New Year, everybody!"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. On Call to Hell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Setting: Sunday, just past midnight, January 1, 2006: Miami</p>
<p>Three cars and a pickup truck pulled up to the chaos of the multiple vehicle accident. All four had temporary emergency lights placed in their front windows, their lights flashing to warn traffic. Turning the flashing to steady headlights, adding more luminescence to the early morning scene, all four drivers quickly approached the mayhem.</p>
<p>Alexx's steps faltered at the mass of destruction, wondering if anyone could have lived through some of what she'd already seen. "Oh hell," she whispered. Her black ponytail extensions swished with her head shake, the pink half-veil pushed back so as not to block her vision. She hadn't had time to change before leaving her party in such a rush.</p>
<p>Officer Frank Tripp was also arrayed in costume, dressed as a cowboy, complete with ten-gallon hat, which he pushed back in true Texas country fashion. "Hell is right," he muttered, surveying the scene, mouth slightly open. Silently he sent a prayer of thanksgiving that his three kids were safely ensconced at Alexx's house for a sleepover.</p>
<p>Calleigh, dressed in navy slacks and white sweater, following right on their heels, stopped next to Alexx. Mentally, she said goodbye to the gift from Horatio; there was too much blood to hope she could save the new top. She let one hand flutter to cover her mouth, fighting the uprising of nausea as her stomach rebelled. It was close, but Calleigh won and slid the same hand back down to lightly cover her swollen belly.</p>
<p>Stopping just between the women, dressed in pajama bottoms, heavy sweater, dark red wind-breaker, and sturdy boots, Ryan looked like a mixed bag. He had obviously been pulled out of bed by the recall of all off-duty emergency personnel. The thin, brown-haired investigator turned to glance over Alexx, checking out her wispy outfit and exposed midriff. "Jeanie?"</p>
<p>She merely nodded and replied "we host a children's party every New Year’s." Without looking at her friends and co-workers, Alexx walked towards the station wagons, both of which were crumpled into the wall of the museum grounds. She saw Speed, dressed in old jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, watching as fire rescue workers used the <i>Jaws of Life</i> on the front wagon. Detective McGuire stood a little away, photographing the same car.</p>
<p>Ryan glanced to his other side at the clean white sweater Calleigh sported. Without a word, he slipped out of his wind-breaker and held it out to her.</p>
<p>Calleigh looked at the jacket then up at the man. "Thanks, Ryan." She smiled softly and took the garment, slipping it on and zipping it over her protruding abdomen. It hung down her thighs.</p>
<p>His glance followed her hands and he frowned. "No lifting, Calleigh."</p>
<p>The blonde nodded and smiled up at him again. "No lifting, Ryan." She walked briskly towards the closest vehicle, a yellow pickup truck crushed head-first into the huge purple cab of the silvery eighteen-wheeler.</p>
<p>Ryan silently headed for the purple compact at the rear of the massive truck, watching ambulance workers crawling in and around the two occupants inside.</p>
<p>Horatio didn't bother to glance up as the rest of his team arrived. He merely stood patiently waiting as the driver of the big rig gulped down water like a dehydrated man. Like those members who <i>had</i> been on call, Horatio was dressed in his typical suit, though the redhead didn't begrudge the new arrivals their haphazard, unprofessional attire. No one had been given time to change; they had been ordered to grab their kits and report as soon as possible. More of the rescuers than CSI's were dressed for partying or sleep that cool January morning.</p>
<p>Finally, from his seat on the large step of his driver's side door, the trucker looked up and whispered, "I ran them over . . . I couldn't stop." He shuddered and turned to suddenly vomit up all the water he'd been gulping.</p>
<p>Patiently standing to one side, Horatio waited for the man to get back under control. He glanced momentarily over at Alexx, joining Speed at the front station wagon. The lead investigator hadn't yet gotten further than the truck so hadn't been able to take in the full extent of the accident scene. He had to trust his CSI's to cover it for him.</p>
<p>Nearby, their newest CSI of seven months, Rain McGuire, took pictures as quickly as she could, trying to capture the scene before too much became altered by the rescue attempts. The red-haired woman in the neat slacks suit and CSI vest ignored questions directed at her by shouting reporters outside the crime tape. They asked how many people had died and if the trucker really was drunk when he plowed through all those cars, but the part-Seminole Indian refused to be distracted or to speculate for the flock. She kept her back to them and continued silently working.</p>
<p>At the front and right side of the truck, Eric Delko, dressed in slacks and a button down shirt along with his winter jacket, moved carefully around the smashed, unrecognizable heap of metal crushed between the yellow pickup and the tail end of a dark blue station wagon, as well as under the front passenger side of the eighteen-wheeler. Anyone in that vehicle had to be dead. The Cuban-Russian American wished he could go on to a different car, but everyone had claimed a vehicle in the beginning; he couldn't ask to swap now just because he wouldn't have the hope of a survivor to settle his roiling stomach. He glanced up as Calleigh approached, heading for the front of the pickup and its lone occupant, who had not moved in the last ten minutes: the driver had been checked and left by the first ambulance crew to arrive. Delko looked back into his vehicle, something flashy red, knowing that Calleigh wouldn't have the comfort of a survivor, either, and wondering if he should warn the pregnant woman away from what promised to be a gory view: the yellow pickup had been crushed almost as much as Speed's chosen dark blue station wagon.</p>
<p>Speed wasn't next to his chosen car. Rather he was with Rain's choice: the lighter colored lead station wagon. He'd gone to check his vehicle and seen no movement or signs of life, fighting the nausea at the sight of the four victims. It had already been deserted by the first responding EMT's. Speed didn't want anyone else to handle <i>that</i> car, but he got distracted when the little girl in the lead car woke up and started screaming. Now he watched as the emergency people worked furiously to free the heavily bleeding child, talking to her encouragingly despite her once more unconscious state.</p>
<p>Alexx stopped beside her friend. "Hey, Baby." She watched with a grimace for the screeching, twisted-metal noise of the machine doing its job. "Someone lived through that?"</p>
<p>Sighing Speed nodded, his stance tense. "The girl woke up when we got here. They're hoping she's still alive in there. No movement from the woman, though." He tried to keep his voice neutral, so intent on willing the kid to life, he hadn't realized that Alexx moved from his side and onto the darker station wagon behind this one.</p>
<p>When Alexx reached the heavily damaged car, its front end crumpled practically into the back seat, engine bay literally folded into the laps of the front occupants, she shivered. As she reached the door of the driver's side, Alexx jumped, hearing Speed's sudden, panic-filled scream, "No, wait, Alexx!" But his warning came too late. Her flashlight shone through the shattered window and on the crumpled African-American man dressed as Dracula then bounced over the blonde woman with dark wig askew.</p>
<p>Her skin paled to near cream color as the African-American medical examiner stiffened, her hands convulsing involuntarily. Her knees collapsed, lifeless beneath her, and a scream of pain and horror ripped from her throat. She hit her knees on the unforgiving asphalt, but never felt the pain of impact as her vision dimmed and her blood pulsed in a raging vortex in her head.</p>
<p>Skidding to a drop next to Alexx, Speed enveloped her in his arms, one strong hand firmly turning her face into his shoulder as she continued to scream. She began to tremble, her cries muffled by his shoulder, and Speed started rocking her gently, making nonsensical soothing noises but refusing to lie and say everything would be fine. He knew nothing would be fine for his best friend.</p>
<p>The rescue workers who weren't immediately saving lives hurried over closely following the CSI's. A swarm of loud questions rang out from the blocked reporters, none of whom could see what happened by the distant car. One woman reported "apparently another victim has woken up; one more survivor in this New Year's carnage." But for the most part, everyone ignored her while they tried to check on the collapsed, hysterical medical examiner.</p>
<p>Horatio slowed as he saw Alexx trembling against Speed, burrowing desperately into her friend. His eyes darted past the pair to the dark blue family car. A child's head lay against the bloody smashed rear window, a pirate hat crumpled against the shattered glass. Already pale skin turning nearly white, Horatio stepped purposefully forward as Speed looked up.</p>
<p>"No, H . . ." his voice sounded desperate but Horatio ignored the other man, lifting his flashlight to shine over the windows of the crushed vehicle. He willed himself to continue around the crumpled back of the car but was blocked by the red metal heap Delko had been investigating: it was pinned between the big rig and this station wagon. Moving in the other direction, towards the front end and the wall, Horatio again shone his light in, angling it to play over the small figure of the blue-gowned fairy princess in the far back seat.</p>
<p>A small hand convulsed, clutching at nothing, grasping at life, and Horatio shouted in stunned relief. "She's alive!" He began to crawl over the hood, ignoring any evidence he messed up, blocking thoughts of the other inhabitants of the car . . . of the lifeless boy in the back seat. "Over here!" he called as Delko and Ryan quickly followed him. "She's alive! Madison's alive!"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Sorting the Pieces</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yelina Salas rounded the back end of the Mack Truck, glancing at the damaged purple compact and the trio of people aiding the two victims inside. Seeing the large group of rescuers working on the dark blue station wagon, she headed that way. She reached the back of the family car in time to see Horatio lay his hand on the window and call out, a hint of desperation in his voice, "Madison, it's Horatio. I'm here, Sweetheart."</p>
<p>Exhaling a soft groan, the Colombian woman sprinted towards the wreck. If Madison was in that car, HR would be too: Horatio's son had gone to a party with Susie and Madison. Yelina slid to a stop, bumping into Ryan in her haste, but he merely grunted and caught her before she fell. Yelina could see the blood, the destruction, the limp bodies of the adults and the little boy. Her hand flew to her mouth and she couldn't hold back a sob. But for the grace of God, her son would have been with them . . . Ray junior had been running a fever so Yelina had forbidden him to attend Alexx's party. That fever may have saved her son's life. She trembled, weakly leaning into Ryan's tightening grasp at the thought of her son among those bodies. Another sob escaped as she tore her eyes from the pirate-costumed little boy.</p>
<p>Realizing the woman in his arms was close to collapse, Ryan pulled her from the scene, guiding her back around the foot of the truck. He pushed her firmly to the ground then, hand on the back of her head, forced her head between her knees. "Deep breaths, Detective Salas. Take deep breaths." Ryan fought his own nausea at the memory of Horatio's kids in that crumpled car. He'd never met Alexx's husband, but had to assume by her reaction that the driver was Jeffrey Woods. The woman must have been Madison's mother. He glanced back towards the car then around at the rest of the vehicles. Making a quick decision, the former patrol officer gave Yelina a firm squeeze of the arms. "We've got lives to save. Come on." Ryan tugged her to her feet and pulled her over to the purple compact close by.</p>
<p>The Miami detective allowed the CSI to guide her, pulling her mind back to the duty at hand. She would grieve with Horatio later.</p>
<p>Like Ryan, Eric backed up from the station wagon to give the rescuers room. He headed back to the rest of the vehicles, circling the big rig to take up where Horatio left off with that survivor. Pushing the image of Alexx's breakdown and Horatio's desperation to the back of his mind, Eric took a steadying breath. "You able to answer some questions?"</p>
<p>Looking up from his step, the trucker asked "is the lady who screamed gonna make it?" They could still hear Horatio calling encouragingly to Madison, but Alexx's screams had subsided and the noise of rescue efforts and the <i>Jaws of Life</i> screeching covered any sound she made.</p>
<p>Eric nodded. "She's gonna be okay," he assured the man but didn't elaborate about who the screamer was. Pulling out his pen and pad, he said "can you tell me what happened?"</p>
<p>Groaning, the man began to cry. "I ran them over. I killed them." Shudders wracked his body: a strong man brought to tears.</p>
<p>With a sigh, Eric looked down at the driver and gentled his voice. "I need you to tell me what happened. You had the widest view of the road from your truck."</p>
<p>As Eric questioned the Mack Truck driver, Calleigh skirted the two station wagons and joined the still steadily working Rain. The other CSI looked up, nodded once, then turned back to her photographs. Calleigh signaled Tyler, one of their techs, to come measure for them. She pulled out her sketch pad and began quickly drawing the scene, walking behind Rain, in front of Tyler as they worked. The blonde investigator kept her face turned from the desperately working rescue crews swarming the second station wagon, tuning out Horatio's voice. The larger scene degraded with each new helper, each broken window, each rescue effort. Things needed to be recorded before it was destroyed completely.</p>
<p>Pausing by the wall near the front of the lighter family car, Rain stretched her five foot four inch frame to see the top. With a frown, the slim woman narrowed liquid hazel eyes, studying the stones. Something felt wrong, and Rain always trusted her instincts. Her innate senses spooked some members of the lab, most notably the very superstitious Ryan, but she didn't care: her instincts served her well and she never ignored them. Now, a sense of something missing, something important, seeped over the woman, sending a shiver down her back. Her arms prickled into goose-bumps which had nothing to do with the pre-dawn cold.</p>
<p>"Find something, Rain?" Calleigh's voice slid into Rain's consciousness but didn't jar her into losing her concentration.</p>
<p>Rain nodded, red hair swinging in its ponytail. "The cars never reached this far."</p>
<p>Calleigh and Tyler looked back over the massive wreck and Tyler ventured "no, the station wagons are the furthest along, stopped by the wall." He, too, tried to ignore Alexx and Horatio, though he hoped by all that was holy that Madison would be rescued. He didn't know just how Horatio had wound up with a daughter out of wedlock, but Tyler also didn't care. The kid was so gentle and adorable; no one could hate her for a mistake made by her parents. Tyler turned back to Calleigh and Rain. "You find debris? Probably flung by the impact."</p>
<p>Slowly, Rain lifted her camera and took a picture of the top of the wall. "Not debris, Jensen. Skid marks. Something scraped this wall and fell onto the other side."</p>
<p>The audio-visual tech sighed. "Then even this wall couldn't contain that crash." He shook his head and began measuring the long black burnt drag mark Rain pointed out. "Looks like our scene just got bigger."</p>
<p>Calleigh stepped over to sketch the marks but paused. "That mark was made by something large." She turned to call back, "Frank, we need you!" As the rugged costumed officer trotted over, Calleigh kept her further opinions to herself, but the others didn't ask for clarification.</p>
<p>When Frank reached the trio, he looked the wall up and down, mouth slightly open as he pondered the sight. Finally, he barked, "what you need, Calleigh?"</p>
<p>"I need a lift, Frank," she offered a sweet smile, her voice determinedly pleasant as she avoided glancing behind him at the mayhem.</p>
<p>Tyler's eyes widened as Rain threw a glare at the petite blonde woman . . . the obviously pregnant, petite blonde woman.</p>
<p>Fortunately, Frank Tripp wasn't stupid. “No can do, Calleigh. You're on restricted duty. Even if I thought it was a good idea, H'll kill me if I toss you around." The six foot two inch man worried just as much as Horatio about the investigators on the team.</p>
<p>"Lift me," Rain ordered, her voice steady, unemotional.</p>
<p>Frank gave her a look of annoyance, a frown flitting over his normally severe expression. He'd been avoiding coming near her on work hours if at all possible and now she wanted him to man-handle her. <i>Terrific</i>.</p>
<p>With a chuckle, Tyler offered, "or you can toss me up." The tech knew the large officer wouldn't take him up on the suggestion. While Tyler was taller than the women, he wasn't tall enough to see over the wall, but that didn't mean Frank Tripp would be willing to lift him. Frank's dark look and low grunt rewarded him.</p>
<p>Dismissing Tyler's joking offer, Frank turned abruptly to Rain. He cupped his hands, lacing his fingers together as if he offered her a boost onto a tall horse. Without a word, he set his leg so she could walk up him and get into position. It was either this or grab her waist and toss. Frank waited patiently.</p>
<p>Rain seemed unmoved as she grabbed Frank's fringed vest and placed one foot on his hands. She stepped onto his thigh, her strong hands steadying her as she literally walked up the large man's legs. He kept steady, not actually lifting her, letting her control the movement. Once her head was above his, Frank set his back and continued to support her; she turned to look over the markings on the top of the wall.</p>
<p>A black skid accompanied with some crumbling rock streaks and burned debris stretched across a ten foot swath and ended at the other side. With a grunt, Rain balanced, one foot in Tripp's hands and the other on his thigh, knee leaning into his chest. Snapping a couple of photos, Rain then offered the camera downwards.</p>
<p>Tyler leaped forward to grab the camera.</p>
<p>"Lifting tape, scalpel . . ." Rain listed the equipment she wanted to gather the trace from the top of the wall. She ignored the fact that Frank would have to hold her up the entire slow, delicate process. She could easily have scrambled up onto the sturdy surface, but this was more fun. She loved to needle Frank; he was so damn gruff.</p>
<p>Below Rain, Frank stayed as still as possible, thankful the small woman didn't weigh as much as Tyler would have. Having her stomach almost pressed against his face was uncomfortable for its own reasons, but he pushed that from his mind. It'd been too long since Melissa had left him; he'd just have to cope.</p>
<p>Tyler passed the requested supplies up to Rain and watched as best he could while the woman worked.</p>
<p>Carefully, Rain ran the blade under the black marking, lifting it up and staring at it intently. "Rubber . . ." she murmured then bagged the sample. Using tweezers, she picked up a sliver of tempered glass and followed that with a scraping of metal. Handing down the bags, Rain lifted her flashlight to shine the beam over the trail and off the edge into the trees behind.</p>
<p>Shock coursed through the investigator when her light glinted off something in the trees. "We have another victim!" she called, scrambling onto the wall with nimble grace. She lowered herself onto the other side and heard Frank grab Tyler and toss him at the top of the wall, the tech scrabbling to catch himself without damaging the evidence still up there.</p>
<p>A pair of rescuers headed off to the Museum's entrance, hoping to make their way through the trees to the newest victim.</p>
<p>Stepping back, Calleigh moved away from the newest rescue attempt, knowing there was still much to do.</p>
<p>A metallic shrieking rent the air and most people turned to witness the triumphant opening of the light blue station wagon. Amid cheers, two medics carefully began to work on the blonde girl, checking her vitals and calling back and forth.</p>
<p>The noise drew Alexx from her consuming horror. She lifted her face from Speed's shoulder, sobbing, trying to catch her breath. "I . . . I'm . . . o . . . kay . . . Ba . . . by," she hiccoughed. As his calloused hand ran tenderly over her trembling shoulders, Alexx grasped his upper arm and met his deep, sad brown eyes. Alexx stroked Speed's cheek. "They . . . need me."</p>
<p>Speed nodded and helped his friend to rise, keeping one arm protectively around her. He deliberately blocked her sight of her husband's crumpled car, turning her towards the unrecognizable twisted metal sandwiched under the front of the big rig. Speed walked Alexx to the vehicle; it would have the most severely damaged victims so she would want to start there.</p>
<p>Alexx took a deep, steadying breath and allowed Speed to help guide her. Once they reached the bright red mess, she hissed. "This was a convertible, Baby."</p>
<p>He nodded in silent agreement then offered "think anyone was thrown free?"</p>
<p>Taking in the horribly crushed vehicle, Alexx turned her searching, haunted brown eyes over the rest of the mayhem. "If someone was thrown, he might have actually lived." The hands on her shoulders instantly released as Speed moved away to tell rescuers to look at a distance for thrown victims, such as the one Rain had found.</p>
<p>Carefully moving amidst twisted metal, broken glass, and other signs of wreckage, Speed headed towards the small group at the wall. Something caught his attention and Speed turned back to Jeffrey's car, curiously squatting next to the door the still form of HR slumped against. Speed tried to ignore the limp form, already passed over as deceased by the triage EMT. Instead, Speed reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a pair of gloves then slid them on, keeping his eyes firmly on the dark blue door. Gingerly, he touched a finger to the door then called out, "bring me a kit!"</p>
<p>When one of the many rescue workers retrieved Speed's kit from where he'd left it by the other station wagon, Speed reached in and grabbed his flashlight. He shone it over the side of the car, a darker streak revealed in the intense beam. As carefully as if he performed surgery, Speed used a tiny scalpel to flake off a piece of the trace: black paint. He held the scalpel steady as he twisted to look at each of the vehicles around him: a pale blue station wagon, Jeffrey's dark blue station wagon, a yellow pick-up truck, a purple and silver eighteen-wheeler, an unrecognizable red convertible, and a purple compact. "Where's the black one?"</p>
<p>He looked again then slipped the paint into a bag and stood quickly. Cupping one hand around his mouth, raising his voice above the cacophony, Speed shouted "there's one missing! Look for a motorcycle!" Whatever had left that streak had been small enough to either be totally hidden under another vehicle or light enough to flip over the museum wall. Either way, they had to find it.</p>
<p>Horatio busily studied the door next to Madison. It had slightly popped from the force of the accident, but he hadn't been able to wrench it open when he'd first seen her movements. Unfortunately, with the little girl mainly unconscious, breaking the window in on her would probably hurt her more than help. As the other investigators shouted about finding victims and looking for motorcycles, as the nerve-wrenching screech of the <i>Jaws of Life</i> sounded from the other family car, H reached into his kit and pulled out a screwdriver. Fortunately, he had managed to cling to the kit even while trying to climb to his injured niece. With speed born of familiarity, H began to pry the window away from its sealant, working steadily as he called through the cracked door, "I'm here, Madison. I'm coming for you."</p>
<p>The little girl gasped suddenly and her blue eyes flew open wide. She looked around, horror and confusion rising, and turned her head to try to see what was all around her. The seven year old shook pitifully. Before she could get her bearings, a concerned voice filtered through the broken door seal. "I'm here, Madison." She looked up at Horatio, relief warring with the fear.</p>
<p>Softly, almost silently, she called back, "Horatio . . . help."</p>
<p>"I'm coming, Sweetheart," he crooned as he worked. Noticing her eyes darting towards the front seat, Horatio commanded her attention with a firm "Madison, look at me."</p>
<p>She turned her wide blue eyes on the man who'd helped and protected her and her mother for the past three years.</p>
<p>Horatio smiled softly at her. "That's right, Sweetheart. Watch me. Can you see the door lock?"</p>
<p>Madison might have been an unusually quiet, shy little girl, but she was a clever one as well. "It doesn't unlock inside, Horatio." Her voice sounded tiny and shaky but certain.</p>
<p>The red-haired man nodded. "That's right. It's called a child safety lock." There was no other point to the conversation than to keep his redheaded niece's attention away from the other occupants of the car. He didn't want her to realize that she was trapped and her family had been killed. Horatio pushed the thought away, still refusing to deal with the loss of his son. Instead, he slid the screwdriver into another section of window and called, "is there a drink holder on the door, Madison?"</p>
<p>Puzzled, the little girl began to study the car door. She was unfamiliar with the Woods's car so it took a little time before she shook her head. "No."</p>
<p>"Very good," Horatio called back. The window wasn't coming loose; his tool wasn't long enough. Pushing away the frustration, Horatio glanced in the car and made a quick decision. Madison was in shock or she would have been aware of her injuries: bloody head and face, twisted arm, and untold hidden wounds. Horatio called, "Close your eyes, Sweetheart, and count to one hundred. Can you do that for me? Nice and loud."</p>
<p>The request puzzled Madison, but she nodded and closed her eyes, her innate trust of her uncle guiding her. "One . . . two . . ."</p>
<p>H closed his kit and scrambled back over the front of the crumpled car, ignoring the jagged metal tearing his suit, scratching his leg. He made it back to HR's window, took a deep breath, said a silent prayer requesting his son's forgiveness, then drew back his arm. With all his strength, the former bomb squad officer slammed his elbow into the window, shattering it and drawing a loud, terrified scream from the girl on the far side. Immediately, he began clearing away the glass, calling out, "I'm here, Madison. Keep your eyes closed. I broke the window. You don't want glass in your eyes, Sweetheart."</p>
<p>Horatio took in the destruction of the back seat then reached in to release his son's seatbelt. He had to move the nine year old's body before he could reach the very alive little girl. Taking a deep breath, Horatio reached in and grasped the belt release.</p>
<p>A soft moan issued from the boy and Horatio froze, eyes widening, skin paling further. "HR?" He slid his fingers to the boy's neck and felt nothing. Frowning, he laid his hand over the boy's chest and sobbed as a fluttering rising and falling answered him. "I need rescue! HR's alive!"</p>
<p>Alexx and Speed tore away from their own investigations and ran to Horatio's side, despite having to once again approach their deceased friends. Alexx slipped directly into her medical mode, calling out, "It's okay, Baby, we've got you! We're coming." As she heard Horatio calming Madison and speaking desperately to his unconscious son, Alex called out, "don't move them, Horatio! We need backboards."</p>
<p>Long minutes crept by: speeding up to a flash of confused noises and colors then slowing to capture the eternal memory. Reporters had stopped shouting questions as they sensed that all concentration was required for the rescue attempts. EMT's, firemen, cops, and investigators worked feverishly to pull the survivors from the two station wagons, the purple compact, and beyond the wall. An eerie silence seemed to envelope the noisy rescue, as if only the sounds of aid were permitted into the small bubble of time and space surrounded by a ribbon of yellow tape. Even the driver of the eighteen-wheeler pushed away his nausea and guilt to join in the rescue, helping pull the passenger from the purple car which had run into the back of his rig.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Clinging to Hope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Setting: Saturday, January 1, 2006: Early Morning: Miami:</p><p>As the children were placed in separate ambulances, Horatio tilted his head towards Speed. Voice soft, intense, he instructed, "Speedle, you have the scene. I am removing myself." The supervisor looked over at the medical examiner and gently added, "Alexx, can you go with HR? If he wakes up, I'd like him to be with someone familiar."</p><p>If she went with Horatio's son, she couldn't accompany her deceased husband's body. Nor would she get home to her own children anytime soon. But Alexx knew that her children, and Frank's, were in the capable hands of the Delko sisters, who had stayed behind when Alexx and Frank had been called to this horrible scene. Accompanying HR would also free Horatio to go with the still very much awake, and terrified, Madison . . . who had lost her mother that night. With a slow nod, Alexx said, "of course, Horatio."</p><p>She stepped closer to HR's ambulance, her eyes briefly flickering over the bloody costumed boy. Horatio's thankful smile sent a warmth through her; she sent a wavery smile back at her long-time friend.</p><p>A warm hand slipped to Alexx's arm, and she turned in surprise then relaxed and shot Speed a thankful smile. He helped her into the ambulance then turned and called gruffly, "you take care, HR."</p><p>Backing up, Speed watched as first HR's ambulance, then Madison's, left the scene. With a sigh, he looked over to where the couple from the purple compact where being settled into two more ambulances. Delko and Salas seemed to have that under control, though Eric apparently argued with the truck driver, gesturing towards a fifth ambulance. Letting the other investigator handle the trucker, Speed turned towards the search and rescue efforts on the other side of the wall.</p><p>Calleigh walked beside another stretcher, the small figure of a dark-haired child in an oversized leather jacket lying on the ambulance gurney.</p><p>Speed frowned. Another child meant another driver. He quickly picked his way to the wall and looked over it at the searchers. Spotting the red-headed investigator, Speed called out, "Rain, have you found anyone else?"</p><p>She seemed frustrated, whipping her head around to look at him, hair swinging with her movement. "No. Tyler thinks he came from that convertible, but I think there's a motorcycle out here . . ." she cut herself off and turned, lifting her flashlight. Shining it at the trees, she hissed then trotted over there, kit clasped in her free hand.</p><p>Speed could see what drew her attention: broken branches, torn grass, all the signs of something large, heavy, and fast passing through. Turning back to the massive accident scene, Speed left Rain to her work. He didn't know her very well; she'd been hired after his shooting just as Ryan had. He did trust her work, however. Horatio tended to pick good investigators.</p><p>The assistant supervisor lifted his camera, frowning as he moved to the now deserted light blue station wagon just in front of the Woods' car. He snapped a pair of pictures then reached into his kit to take samples of the black paint streak he found. Bagging the sample, he looked back towards the darker station wagon, the convertible, the eighteen-wheeler, and finally the purple compact. Frown deepening, Speed stood and followed the invisible path he perceived, photographing and sampling the black paint streak he continually found as he maneuvered through the wrecks. Looking back up the length of the accident scene towards the damaged wall, Speed watched as Tyler ran towards Rain, carrying her camera. Something didn't sit right.</p><p>"Hey, Tim, notice something?"</p><p>Jumping at the soft sound of Calleigh's voice, the six foot man looked down at the five foot two inch woman who had stopped next to him unheeded. Looking back along the damage path, shining his flashlight along the black streaking, he said, "that's too much for one motorcycle."</p><p>She followed his line of sight and flashlight beam. Thoughtfully, Calleigh took out her own flashlight and followed the path, calculating in her mind. She might have been a ballistics expert, but math was math and physics was physics. She used her knowledge of dimension and speed to figure out the probable size such a vehicle would need to create such havoc and still stay on the road long enough.</p><p>Green eyes widening, she nodded, stepping forward to check the side of the purple compact. "A motorcycle wouldn't last that long." She looked back at Speed then forward at the light blue station wagon. "This had to be a full sized car . . . maybe even an SUV or pickup."</p><p>"That's what I see," Speed murmured. "Calleigh," Speed turned intense dark brown eyes on the smaller woman. "What do you get when one vehicle manages to skid off at least five others but cannot be found with the accident?"</p><p>"You get a hit and run, Tim." Her green eyes met his.</p><p>Speed nodded and looked back over the scene. "Our accident just became a crime scene."</p>
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</div>Setting: Saturday, January 1, 2006: Early Morning: Miami:<p>Yelina Salas left Eric to argue with the truck driver, moving to the sixth ambulance and the dark-haired child being slipped carefully into place. She looked around, noting that none of the investigators had moved to accompany the child, busy with their duties and the search for a larger accident site. With a decisive nod, she climbed into the ambulance. "I'm going, too." At the least the child needed processing and questioning . . . and to wake up to someone other than doctors and nurses.</p><p>The paramedic shrugged, "hold on and stay out of the way," she instructed before climbing in behind the detective.</p><p>"Wait," Ryan called breathlessly, running to catch up to Yelina before the ambulance could leave. "I've got this, Detective Salas."</p><p>She frowned but decided that he had the right. Ryan could process the child. As she climbed from the ambulance, however, Yelina grabbed the man's arm and met his hazel eyes with an intense dark look. "Be gentle with the kid, Wolfe."</p><p>Ryan nodded, a strange look crossing his face. "I will," he promised, though privately he felt the detective should know him better. He had worked patrol long enough to know how to deal with child victims of accidents. Without voicing this defense, Ryan slid into the ride-along seat, keeping out of the medic's way as the woman closed the doors and turned to work on her patient.</p><p>As the ambulance eased through the onlookers and reporters, Ryan watched as the medic worked on the kid. First she pulled out a triage pack, handing it over to Ryan. As he fumbled his tape recorder on, she added, "You come along, you work for me." Before he could interrupt, she added "I'll make sure to explain everything so you can record it for your report." The woman turned back to the child and recited "contusions and lacerations to the face, head, and neck." She began to work as best she could to stop the visible bleeding since the child's breathing appeared stable, her hands unzipping the over-large jacket as she worked.</p><p>He'd never been ride-along from an accident before. Now Ryan saw an entirely new aspect of the process. He watched the woman work efficiently, quickly, and yet still as gently as possible.</p><p>The ride ended before he was prepared and Ryan found himself jumping out of the way as several medics whisked the gurney into the emergency room and straight to x-ray. He followed, glad the female responder still spoke out loud for his tape recorder. Later that recording would bolster his memory of the almost blurred sounds and sights as the child was x-rayed, stripped, and cared for.</p><p>It turned out the child was a boy of perhaps nine years old, and he never awoke during the entire process. Prompted by the need to identify the young victim, Ryan was granted permission to fingerprint the boy as well as to take hair and blood samples for DNA analysis. He also took tox screens, his OCD condition demanding absolute thoroughness even with such a young child.</p><p>Finally, Ryan was able to return to the lab with his samples, recording, and photographs. He hoped the child lived: the boy still hadn't woken even after the hours Ryan had spent with him.</p>
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</div>Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Afternoon: Miami:<p>The afternoon sun streamed over the figures in the hospital beds, glinting off the girl's strawberry curls and the boy's ruffled red locks. Both children slept amid blankets, tubing, and stuffed animals. Madison's broken right forearm was in a bright pink cast and immobilized against her body to aid the recently dislocated shoulder in the healing process. HR's back was stiff in a brace to add support; he hadn't broken it, but the extreme bruising he'd suffered would put the active child on an extended bed rest for several weeks.</p><p>A third child had been placed in the large children's hospital room. Horatio had welcomed the unknown boy, the only other surviving child from the massive accident: unfortunately, the little blonde girl had died in the emergency room. Since no one knew the dark-haired child, Horatio determined the boy would wake up to a friendly face rather than an empty hospital room.</p><p>And so he sat directly across from the unknown victim's bed. His chair, between his son's and his niece's beds, was one of the standard uncomfortable fare provided in general public settings, but Horatio barely noticed. Instead, he concentrated on a report brought to him by the lab tech Sam Belmontes.</p><p>Softly, Horatio's voice broke the sickroom stillness. "No trace of drugs or alcohol." He lifted his eyes to meet those of the dark-eyed blond man. "The driver of the eighteen-wheeler was clean."</p><p>Sam nodded and gestured towards the sheaf of papers Horatio held. "I've coded each person based on vehicle and position inside the vehicle as best as we can determine so far. Tyler's working with reconstruction to rework the scene on the screen."</p><p>"And a motorcycle was found just beyond the tree line on museum grounds," Horatio continued, nodding. He skimmed the report then looked again at Sam. "Why are you telling me this, Sam? Speedle's in charge of this case." With a slight nod to the little girl beside him Horatio added "my children are involved, so I'm emotionally compromised. I'm not working the case."</p><p>"Yes," Sam stated in his lightly accented baritone, "but Speed thought you might want to know. He said that based on the preliminary testing, there's another vehicle out there involved in the crash."</p><p>Horatio nodded and handed back the papers. He paused, as if thinking about what he would say, then simply said, "thank you, Sam."</p><p>The technician nodded and turned to leave, stepping past Yelina Salas as she entered the room.</p><p>The Colombian woman looked at her brother-in-law as he intensely watched the little girl who slept on his left side. His hand rested lightly on the bandage over his sliced left thigh, an injury acquired while trying to save the children. As well, his right arm was in a sling, the severely bruised elbow bound tightly. Offering a soft smile, Yelina walked over to the tired looking redhead.</p><p>"Hey," she said, softly. "I dropped Alexx at home." When Horatio turned weary blue eyes up to her, she added, "RJ's at her place, too. His fever's gone completely."</p><p>"And <i>that</i> is good news," Horatio smiled gently at his little brother's widow. He never questioned his nephew's change of nickname; the boy had opted to change to his initials shortly after his kidnapping last May. Yelina had claimed it was a form of hero worship for the uncle who'd saved him. Horatio hadn't argued.</p><p>Yelina's sigh drew Horatio's attention and he tilted his head slightly, eyes questioning. She nodded, "right." It was a habit she had when making a difficult decision. Patience paid off as the woman stepped next to the man and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Horatio, I'm sorry about Susie."</p><p>That was not what he'd expected to hear. Smile slipping to a soft frown, Horatio nodded. "Thank you."</p><p>His sister-in-law nodded and turned to look over the pretty little girl. "I know you two weren't blatant about your relationship, but I had hoped you'd found someone." She offered him a hopeful smile at odds with the pain in her dark eyes.</p><p>"Yelina," Horatio's voice firmed, "I told you Susie's case was complicated."</p><p>"And I meant it, Horatio, when I said I'm not judging you."</p><p>The redhead sat straighter in his chair, his blue eyes steady. "Susie was a friend, nothing more."</p><p>"Right," Yelina frowned at him, disbelief and disappointment radiating from her. "Look, Horatio, you're an adult. You find love where you can."</p><p>Horatio shook his head. "Yelina," he paused as she met his eyes then added "Madison is not my daughter."</p><p>"Oh, right," Yelina's attitude switched to anger. "She looks just like you."</p><p>"Or your cousin Johnny Kelly," a woman interrupted from the doorway.</p><p>Both siblings-in-law turned to the door, Horatio easing out of his chair at the sight of the raven-haired woman in the dress suit standing there, grey eyes roving the room in disapproval. Suddenly, the woman spotted the bruised and bandaged form of HR and she let out an enraged groan.</p><p>"I can't believe how irresponsible you are, 'Ratio!" his ex-wife, Peg, hissed as she moved to the far side of HR's bed. "Really, letting him go to a party with goodness knows who."</p><p>"Margaret," Horatio sounded tired, "he went to Alexx's New Year's party. Since I was on call, Susie offered to take him."</p><p>"A drug informant, if my sources are still true." Peg glared at the crime lab supervisor, ignoring Detective Salas in favor of displaying her anger. "Wise choice the day before a custody hearing, which, by the way, you missed," sarcasm rang through Peg's voice.</p><p>Horatio closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again. "I was detained."</p><p>Peg shook her head, reaching out to tenderly stroke a finger down her son's cheek. "Really, 'Ratio, why I ever married you I have no idea. I should have married Johnny."</p><p>The irrational statement was too tempting. Horatio said "he married Laurie. Besides, Peg, I recall you divorced me because I'm a cop."</p><p>She shot him an annoyed look and shrugged one shoulder. "Whatever, 'Ratio. Where's the woman who tried to kill my son?"</p><p>"We don't know who's at fault, Margaret," Horatio snapped in anger. He shot a look at his niece to check her awareness then added "and Susie didn't make it."</p><p>Peg pursed her lips and turned to look at the little girl then at her son. "So, I suppose you'll be taking in your daughter now." She looked at Horatio. "I know she's not Johnny's no matter how much you two look alike. Johnny's still in New York."</p><p>"Yes, I'll be petitioning for full custody of Madison, Peg." Horatio looked towards the window, his eyes seeing something no one else could. "I'm all she has left."</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Family Matters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Afternoon: Miami:</p><p>The lab was busy for a Sunday, but almost everyone pulled double shifts to cover the massive amount of evidence from the seven vehicle pile-up. With the added personal offense of the deaths of Jeffrey Woods and Susie Barnum-Keaton, and the injuries to Horatio's children, no one wanted to let this case rest until they'd fully worked each fingerprint, each fiber, each drop of blood. For once, every investigator and tech worked as hard and long as the normally overworked assistant supervisor, Tim Speedle.</p><p>Speed pushed back from the reports he'd been reviewing, once again wondering why the hell he'd agreed to the promotion a month before. He'd never wanted to be in charge, but the fact that he felt he still owed the FBI Agent, Ivana Gideon, for the personal money she'd spent to keep him alive after his shooting, had made Speed feel he'd had no choice but to take the pay raise offered by the increase of responsibility. And with the addition of his fiancée and the baby . . . But the added duties kept him from working the job he truly loved: trace evidence. It had been one of the negotiation points he'd demanded: as long as he wasn't covering for Horatio specifically, he could work his trace and do his added paperwork after regular lab hours.</p><p>Stretching, Speed stood and strode across Horatio's office to the bullet-proof plexi-shield wall overlooking the lab floor. He watched the controlled chaos of the labs below: the technicians processing their evidence, the staff weaving among the various labs to share information and advice, and the detectives gathering reports for their numerous active cases. As soon as Horatio returned to the lab Speed would gladly go back to his trace, but for now he was acting supervisor. Horatio had not only removed himself from the multiple-vehicle accident case but had taken personal leave to be with HR and Madison.</p><p>The sight of Calleigh walking slowly up the stairs towards the office drew Speed back to the demands of the present. He opened the door, meeting her with a tired nod but no smile. Speed rarely smiled on duty. "What do you have, Calleigh?" He led her into Horatio's office.</p><p>"We found the driver of the motorcycle. He didn't make it; the medical examiner says he bled out." She sighed as she handed over the report.</p><p>Turning to look Calleigh over, Speed nodded and gestured towards Horatio's desk chair. "Sit down," he gruffly ordered. Flipping open the file, Speed stood by the desk as Calleigh gracefully sank onto the edge of the chair. "The guy wore a helmet but the kid didn't." His frown deepened. "And he's Asian-American, but the kid's Caucasian." He looked up. "DNA?"</p><p>She smiled up at her friend. "Already being run . . . on both of them." Her smile slipped as she gestured towards the report in Speed's hands. "The driver was clean, but the kid," she trailed off as Speed flipped to the appropriate page.</p><p>"The kid had alcohol and diphenhydramine in his system." He looked up. "Could be cough medicine."</p><p>"I thought of that, Tim." Calleigh leaned forward to run a finger over the drug analysis information. "Too much alcohol to diphenhydramine content. That much alcohol . . ."</p><p>"Usually comes from drinking, not medicine," Speed finished, a sudden blaze of anger darkening his eyes to almost black. "The driver was clean but the kid was drugged. Sounds like a possible kidnapping."</p><p>Calleigh sighed and nodded, easing back to her feet. "That's what I thought. I have DNA running a wide search just in case."</p><p>Nodding, handing back the report, Speed thought over the situation. Finally, he said "check with child services and have a missing persons check done for the boy. He may have been reported." Speed looked at Calleigh who hesitated so he asked, "what?"</p><p>She smiled at him, her eyes tired. "Welcome home, Speedle."</p><p>Speed couldn't hold back the rough laugh. "You say that practically every time you see me, Calleigh." He offered a genuine smile to the pretty ballistics expert. "Thanks. I'm glad to be home."</p><p>As the petite blonde left the office, Speed sank into the office chair, pulling the rest of the case reports towards him. That night he planned to reach out to his godson, Riley Temple's kid, but for now he had work to do.</p>
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</div>Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Afternoon: Miami:<p>Calleigh reached the bottom of the steps and paused, taking a deep breath. She looked at the report in her hands then back up at Horatio's office where the dark-haired figure of Speed sat going over the various active lab cases. Slowly, the petite blonde walked to the elevator and pushed the button for ballistics.</p><p>She had no active ballistics cases but that lab was her domain. She felt more comfortable there than anywhere else in the entire building. Despite the suicide of John Hagen last May, Calleigh still felt as if the ballistics lab was her <i>safe zone</i>.</p><p>When the elevator door whooshed open, she strode quickly down the hall and into the sound-proofed ballistics range. No one was there; she had the place to herself. The thought soothed her. She sank onto a chair at the log-in desk and dropped the report onto the metal surface then covered her face with trembling hands.</p><p>It was always hardest when a kid was killed. To know that someone was still out there: a hit and run possibly toked up on alcohol, nauseating the intrepid woman. With the additional evidence of the unknown boy's drugged state, Calleigh found it especially hard to retain her normally positive attitude.</p><p>The native Louisianian felt an overwhelming need to connect with family, especially Renee, the daughter her brother raised for her. The girl had been a product of Calleigh's brief relationship with another officer named Jake Berkley. As Calleigh had been so busy with work and trying to deal with the loss of Jake, her brother Jebediah had fortunately agreed to take in the infant. By the time Calleigh had regained enough personal control to reclaim her daughter, Renee had become too attached to her uncle, so Calleigh had made the difficult choice of leaving the girl in Louisiana with Jeb. She maintained regular contact with Renee and visited when possible.</p><p>Now, however, Calleigh really needed to hear her daughter's voice . . . a child's death always made the ballistics expert feel that way. Perhaps she could tell Renee about the coming baby. She wondered how her teenage daughter would take the news.</p><p>Calleigh pulled out her cell phone and began to dial the familiar number.</p>
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</div>Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Afternoon: Miami:<p>Ryan hung up his phone and slid it into the pocket of his lab coat. He ran a hand over his face. It had been good to hear his niece, Jenny's, voice but now he had to get back to work analyzing the black paint trace Speed had collected.</p><p>Speed had been right: it didn't match the paint on the motorcycle. There was an eighth vehicle out there. With the deaths of seven victims already, if the boy from the motorcycle lived, the hit and run was looking at seven possible charges of vehicular manslaughter and six counts of aggravated assault with a motor vehicle: provided they could prove the mega-accident had been his fault, and provided they could catch the guy. This was Ryan's specialty after so many years in patrol. He was going to follow the evidence to the very end.</p><p>Glancing towards Horatio's office, Ryan frowned. It was odd seeing Tim Speedle up there. <i>Hell, it's odd he's even alive!</i> He certainly deserved his promotion. Any reopened cases Speed had originally worked on had not produced errors on the part of the trace expert; Ryan had verified the fact with his own analysis of the evidence and procedures. Ryan looked forward to working further with the lauded investigator . . . despite the man's snarky attitude and off-putting demeanor, Speed was considered one of the best in the field.</p><p>Another frown flitted over Ryan's face and he pulled on fresh gloves, bending once more over the microscope, triple-checking his own findings. There was no way he wanted Speed to find any reason to criticize any of his work. Now that Speed had returned, Ryan wanted no reason for Horatio to suddenly decide to send the replacement back to patrol.</p><p>At a beeping noise from the machines lined up on one side of the trace lab, Ryan straightened, pushing away from his microscope and his worrying thoughts. Glancing over the read-out of the paint analysis, the thin brunet smiled grimly. Turning, he began inputting information into the vehicle paint match program.</p><p>Soon they'd know what vehicle had run roughshod through their accident scene.</p>
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</div>Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Afternoon: Miami:<p>"How's Elizabieta?" Eric asked softly into his cell phone, aware that there were a dozen busy people trying to work nearby.</p><p>"She's fine, Eric."</p><p>Carmen's gentle response soothed the worried underwater retrieval expert. Her next words made him uncomfortable once more.</p><p>"What's happened, Eric? Tell me, <i>bratishka</i>."</p><p>He refused to go into the horrors of his job with any of his family, especially Carmen. Instead, he merely said, "bad day. See you at dinner, <i>starshaya sestra</i>." Before she could protest, he hung up, feeling as morose as he had before calling her. With a sigh, he turned to watch Tyler once more.</p><p>The audio-visual tech meticulously reconstructed the accident in the computer vehicle by vehicle, trying to match the measurements, death rate, and other information the team had gathered. The reconstruction would be needed for court. "So, the convertible was passing the compact when the big rig ran it over, right?" Tyler asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. He was waiting for the video surveillance from the museum to see if the mystery black vehicle had been caught on camera passing the entrance.</p><p>Eric nodded, "Yeah. But once we got the trucker calmed down he remembered the convertible being pushed into him."</p><p>Tyler added the new references and they watched, once again, the horrific rendition of a three car accident. Eventually the program would encompass all eight vehicles, but it would take hours of programming and re-watching the impacts over and over again. Eric felt sick just thinking about the unappealing work ahead.</p><p>Like everyone else in the lab, he waited to hear if the little boy from the motorcycle would make it. The child had only visible bruising and cuts, but the internal exams with x-ray, MRI, and CAT scans were still pending. Horatio was supposed to call with any news as soon as they received it; he determined to keep the child in the same room with his family, since no one yet knew who the boy belonged to.</p>
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</div>Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Afternoon: Miami:<p>Horatio watched as the child services representative left the hospital room. He stopped smiling and turned to look over the children ensconced in three of the four beds. The news was mixed: child services would check into the boy's identification as soon as they could figure out who he was, which was very good news.</p><p>On the other hand, Horatio had to go through family court to get custody of his niece, Madison. With the added custody battle for HR, Horatio could easily lose the little girl to the system if he couldn't prove he was the best choice. He had to display for the court his dedication and ability as well as refute any new charges Peg might raise against him since the accident the night before.</p><p>With a soft sigh, Horatio turned to run his tired, worried blue gaze over his nine year old son. HR slept stiffly in the back brace. His other injuries, lacerations and contusions, were miraculously minor. The boy would recover completely by the end of the school year, but he'd need a tutor since he couldn't go to the public school in his condition.</p><p>Gently, Horatio brushed his son's hair from his face and offered the rousing child a soft smile. "Hey, HR. Welcome back."</p><p>"Dad?" HR sounded confused and tired, but the pain medication shielded the child from the worst of his back strain.</p><p>"Right here," Horatio confirmed and stroked the boy's hair again.</p><p>A sound from the door drew the attention of both father and son, and both looked expectantly at the new arrival.</p><p>A man about six feet four inches dressed in faded military fatigues stood there. His platinum blond hair had been cut military short and his vivid blue eyes took in the room's occupants with a combination of weariness and worry. Meeting Horatio's equally exhausted expression the man nodded and strode quickly into the room. "Horatio," he said, offering a strong, well-tanned hand to his friend.</p><p>"Sergei Gideon, thank you for coming," Horatio responded, shaking the ex-Marine's hand.</p><p>They had met last May when Horatio's nephew had been kidnapped and Ray, the boy's father, had been killed after coming out of deep cover. Sergei had helped rescue RJ, taking a bullet for the boy. Horatio had moved the US Marshal into his own home, where the tall blond had reciprocated by watching young HR and occasionally Madison. The lab staff respected and liked Sergei, the children adored him, and Eric Delko's sister, Marisol, dated him, long-distance.</p><p>When the initial excitement from the accident died down, Horatio insisted on calling his recent house guest; Sergei would never have forgiven him for keeping it from him.</p><p>"Sergei?" Madison's pained voice wafted over from her window-side bed. The seven year old girl lay watching the door, her arm in a bright pink cast, the bruising on her face expanding from forehead down the right side to her chin.</p><p>The tall US Marshal dropped Horatio's hand and strode quickly to the little girl's side, sinking onto his knees by her bed. He gently laid a large strong hand over her tiny one. "Hey, Sweetheart. How's my girl?"</p><p>She smiled painfully at him and began to talk quietly with the man as Horatio turned back to his son.</p><p>HR smiled up at his father. "I'm glad Sergei came."</p><p>"So am I," Horatio sank onto his hard chair.</p><p>The boy lowered his voice, causing Horatio to lean in to hear him. "Are you adopting Madison now, Dad?"</p><p>Horatio nodded. "Yes," his voice was equally quiet, "yes, I am."</p><p>"Mom's not gonna like that." HR got right to the point. For a child of fanciful tales and vivid imagination, he cut to the heart of any important matter. "She wants me back and thinks Madison's bad."</p><p>The redheaded investigator sighed and placed a gentle hand on his son's hand. "Your mother gave you to me and I don't plan to give you back unless you want me to." At HR's slight head shake, Horatio continued, "and Madison is not bad. She's a sweet little girl who needs to be with her family."</p><p>"Us," HR added. He carefully turned his neck to watch Madison and Sergei talking. "Will the courts let you have her?"</p><p>"That depends," Horatio said, drawing a frown from his son. "For one, I have to prove I'm related to her."</p><p>HR sighed, looking troubled. "Oh. Does the fact that I donated blood marrow to her help prove our relationship?"</p><p><i>'Clever boy,'</i> Horatio thought, smiling. "Yes, that helps a great deal. So does a DNA match, which we have on record." The only trouble was, he would have to expose Madison's true relationship to him and that would hurt Ray's widow, Yelina.</p><p>The end point came down to whether Horatio wanted to spare Yelina Ray's infidelity or lose his best claim on his orphaned niece. Horatio sighed again, gently caressing his son's hand as the pair looked at the quietly chatting little girl. The time had come to stop protecting Ray.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Twisted Trace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Miami</p><p>Maxine Valera turned at the insistent beeping from the DNA results printer. Grinning, she headed over, reaching for the colorful chart of numbers along with the secondary page of matching relatives. She glanced over the results and frowned, her eyes immediately seeking out the readouts on the attached screen, as if the paper copy was somehow in error. Worried, the DNA technician reviewed the samples she’d used, comparing them to the evidence log. Short of re-running the entire batch, for which she needed higher authorization, Maxi had to accept the displayed readouts. <i>’Am I gonna be in trouble for messing things up again? I swear I didn’t take any shortcuts this time!’</i></p><p>Nervously, Maxi rechecked the screen against the print out then sighed, reluctantly accepting the results as accurate. She glanced from the DNA lab to the supervisor’s office on the level above, catching her top lip between her teeth and nibbling. She didn’t like bringing this to Speed; it would have been easier dealing with Horatio. While Horatio demanded excellence, somehow Speed’s attitude suggested the need for absolute perfection: a record Maxine Valera had never met and seriously doubted she could ever aspire to. And with these particular results, she was almost certain Tim Speedle would be upset. <i>’Maybe I should ask Natalia to run it?’</i> Maxi shook her head, dismissing the thought. Natalia Boa Vista was the cold case DNA tech and wasn’t permitted to run regular DNA or live cases. This was most certainly a live case.</p><p>Suddenly Maxi wished she hadn’t agreed to work overtime on the accident case.</p><p>Looking back up at the office, Maxi sighed and left the perceived security of the DNA lab. She walked up the steps, one hand on the rail, never taking her eyes from her goal. If she looked away, Maxi was afraid she’d lose her nerve. Upon arrival at the door she took a deep breath and knocked, unintentionally holding the air in as she waited for Speed to respond. Instead of calling out to her, Speed got up and walked to the door, opening it and backing up; she let out her breath but didn’t step forward.</p><p>"Did you get a hit on the boy or the driver?" he asked. Speed knew Maxi was running the DNA on both of the motorcycle victims from the mass accident.</p><p>In answer the DNA tech offered the print out. "The boy." She cleared her throat as the dark-haired man took the pages and looked through them. "He’s a paternal match for . . ."</p><p>"Me?" Speed’s voice reflected shock as did his serious brown eyes. Disbelief crossed his face chased by anger, darkening his eyes to near black. His next word came out a near indistinguishable whisper. “TJ.”</p><p>Maxi backed down a step, swallowing rapidly. "I rechecked the results, but I could run them again. Who took the samples? Maybe some contamination got . . ."</p><p>"No," Speed shook his head, voice tight, eyes still dark with anger. "I believe the results."</p><p>It was Maxi’s turn to be surprised. "You do?" She tilted her head, short brown hair brushing one shoulder as she studied the six foot tall man. "I didn’t know you had kids, Speed." She straightened her head and took her hand off the rail.</p><p>Looking up from the papers, he shrugged, hunching slightly as if in self-defense. "I have an infant daughter. My brother’s the father of this boy." His voice smoothed into a neutral tone, but he still looked angry. "Cleaning up Tom’s mess again." He frowned and shook his head, deep in thought.</p><p>Flushing in embarrassment at having to correct the assistant supervisor, Maxi pointed out, "the match is too close for an uncle, Speed. It has to be a father."</p><p>"Tom was my identical twin," he clarified. "Mirror."</p><p>Surprised, Maxi said, "Oh. So, uh, which of you has their organs on the opposite side?" Often mirror twins mirrored more than external looks, including similar yet different illnesses and one twin having the internal organs on the opposite side of the body.</p><p>Speed shrugged again. "Neither. We were rare even for mirror twins."</p><p>Recalling what she’d been told about the fate of the motorcycle driver, Maxi frowned and held up a hand in a helpless gesture. "Sorry about your brother, Speed."</p><p>He looked up, dark eyes studying her intently, as if searching for something. Finally, he said "Tom died a year and a half ago. I’m not sure who was driving the motorcycle." His frown turned absolutely fierce. "Considering the amount of drugs in the boy’s system, it’s possible the kid was kidnapped." He strode to the desk, laying the DNA report on top of the toxicology report.</p><p>Maxi shook her head, brown hair bobbing. She followed Speed into the office. "You don’t know? But if he’s your nephew . . ."</p><p>Speed shrugged one shoulder again. "I hadn’t heard from Tom since we were seventeen. We didn’t get along. I had no idea he had a son."</p><p>For several long minutes the pair stood; neither moved nor spoke, both lost in their thoughts. Finally Speed sighed and looked at Maxi. "I’ll have to put Calleigh in charge. Where is she?"</p><p>Confused Maxi tilted her head once more. "Why do you need to put Calleigh in charge?"</p><p>"I’m related to a victim," he said simply. Handing the paperwork to Maxi, he added "I don’t want Stetler thinking I’m compromising this case. That guy’s got a vendetta against me for some reason."</p><p>The office phone rang and Speed gave it a glare before picking up the receiver. "Speedle, Crime Lab." He listened then said "okay," and hung up. He moved past Maxi, taking the steps slowly; he did many things slowly since returning to full time duty.</p><p>Taking a bullet through the heart had slowed down the man called <i>‘Speed.’</i></p><p>Not questioning the phone call, Maxi none-the-less followed the supervisor from the office. She drifted past him into the DNA lab as the man headed towards Ballistics presumably on his search for Calleigh. As Maxi stepped into her lab, Natalia Boa Vista called out, "you have a hit on the DNA you're running."</p><p>"I know," Maxi smiled. "I took it to . . ."</p><p>"No," Natalia interrupted. "It came in while you were up in the office. I called Speed to let him know."</p><p>"A hit on the driver?" Maxi felt excitement rise. If they could identify the man who’d had Speed’s nephew, they might be able to figure out where he’d been kidnapped from.</p><p>Natalia shook her head, confusing Maxi. "On the kid."</p><p>"But I already had a hit on the kid, Natalia." She walked over to the machine and pulled the sheet out, comparing it automatically to the screen. "Uh . . ." her voice barely registered, shock seemed to roar to life and drown everything. "This is, uh, not good."</p><p>Maxi ignored Natalia’s look of avid curiosity, instead sprinting from the DNA lab and not stopping until she caught up to Speed just down the hall from the Service Desk near the elevators. Wanting to tell him what she’d found, but unable to since he was going to pull himself off the case, she merely accompanied him towards the desk, where a small knot of people seemed to be in discussion. Maxi felt sure someone somewhere had it in for her.</p>
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</div>　<br/>"Ford Ranger four by four," Sam Belmontes read, reviewing the positive match results; Ryan had left half an hour previously placing the Chemical Analysis Technician in control of the samples. He pulled the print out from the paint comparison machine and headed for the investigation desks. Rain, Ryan, and Frank would be there going over the case reports and searches.<p>Arriving next to the trio of people, Sam produced the print out with a small smile, handing it to Ryan. "The mystery paint comes from a Ford Ranger four by four," Sam recited. "Now we can narrow that down and find the damaged one."</p><p>"It’s a good beginning," Rain remarked stoically. She produced a plastic evidence bag, still sealed, and looked directly at Sam. "We were just going to Tyler with the museum front gate footage."</p><p>Sam nodded and turned back towards the labs, his voice hopeful as he said "so we might have a plate to go with the paint match? Let’s go."</p><p>Frank rolled his eyes at Sam’s enthusiasm, but he didn’t attempt to tamp it down. With such a serious accident and several people dead, one a child, and others hospitalized, especially children of friends, the case had everyone hoping for a quick ending. All night Frank had been fighting the urge to call his children, and he’d deliberately been avoiding Rain’s eyes; the woman instinctively knew he was trying not to call Marisol Delko and check up on his kids.</p><p>By now Alexx would have returned home, but Frank knew the Delko sisters enough to know that all three would have stayed to help Alexx. Since Carmen Delko had her baby there, as well as eldest sister Marguerite De Lajuara’s two children, and Frank’s three, Alexx pretty much had a full house to deal with while trying to process her own grief and support her own two children. Frank felt he’d do more for Alexx, the children, and the waiting Delko sisters if he got this case solved quickly. So he’d avoided letting his emotions in, avoided talking to his kids, and kept plugging away.</p><p>He knew Rain would have something pointed to say about his coping methods, but, as they were at work, he deliberately tried to avoid thinking about what Rain would or wouldn’t agree with. He might have to work with the woman, but he could certainly keep their personal relationship out of the office gossip mill. Thus, instead of interrupting the enthusiastic Sam, Frank merely followed the others to the Audio-Visual Lab to watch the security video.</p><p>Before they could get to the lab, though, a woman with her left arm in a sling stepped over from the service desk. She had dark brown hair and friendly eyes. "Is Detective Caine here, please?"</p><p>The group stopped and the woman behind the counter spoke up, "I was just about to tell her that Lieutenant Caine is on family leave."</p><p>Turning back to her, the woman smiled at the administrator, not seeing Lieutenant Stetler approaching from down the hall. Rather, the woman seemed determined to talk to someone important as she let her voice, a very pleasant alto, carry. "I think I have some accident footage the lab might need."</p><p>Rick stepped forward eagerly, "I can . . ."</p><p>But the administrator knew her job and fielded the woman’s offer. "I can call the acting supervisor, Detective Speedle."</p><p>The woman froze, the color draining from her face. She began to shake, first her hands, then her shoulders, and suddenly, violently, her head. "I," her voice broke on the words and she had to clear her throat in an awkward gurgling cough. She tried again, though the distress made her almost whisper. "Detective Caine told me a year ago that Detective Speedle had been killed in the line of duty."</p><p>"Actually, it’s a complicated case. Speedle was wounded severely and transferred to another district. Due to the high profile case, he was put in witness protection and no one was permitted to reveal that he had survived."</p><p>Everyone turned in surprise to Rick Stetler. It was rare for the lab to hear the Internal Affairs officer come to their defense and aid; more often he tried to find some internal dirt on the lab or the staff. At times like this one, Rick surprised his fellow police officers by proving that he really was a hard-working, dedicated officer of the law.</p><p>The woman cleared her throat again and asked, "but that case is over? Tim Speedle is okay and back now?"</p><p>Rick’s voice tightened, as if he disliked what he said, when he replied "and has been promoted, yes. I’m Lieutenant Rick Stetler. What accident footage are you talking about?" He tried to take over once again.</p><p>Rain successfully intervened by slipping smoothly up to the woman and placing a steady hand on her arm. "I’m Rain McGuire, one of the crime lab investigators. You are?" She didn’t normally engage in small talk, but the conventions were a sign that she was to be trusted. Her ploy, in its simplicity, worked and the woman turned to her, looking relieved and beginning to smile.</p><p>"I’m . . ."</p><p>"Sarah Piper," Speed’s steady voice supplied the name. He walked slowly over, side by side with Maxine Valera from DNA.</p><p>He’d been shot shortly after she’d been a material witness in a murder case he’d investigated. During that investigation, some college guys had started to harass Miss Piper but Speed had intervened and threatened to arrest them. She’d later asked him on a date, but as he’d been seriously, if quietly, in a long-term relationship, Speed had refused. Sarah had mistaken his refusal for a rejection of her for her profession as an adult movie actress, but Speed had never gotten to explain to her that he was already committed: he had no problem with her chosen life unless she did. With his own background, Speed could hardly play judge and jury over someone else trying to make an honest, if socially ambiguous, living.</p><p>"Tim Speedle?" Sarah Piper’s voice was again a bare whisper, but this time from the shock of his appearance rather than the confusion of his supposed death. The officer she recalled had been extremely healthy if dressed a bit relaxed and scruffy. The man before her was still scruffy looking but noticeably thinner and paler, unconsciously trying to catch his breath from his exertions. Even after a year and a half, his shooting took a toll on the assistant supervisor.</p><p>"Yeah. You need help?" It made sense that she would need something if she had come to the crime lab, unless she’d made a good friend among the cops and technicians.</p><p>She offered him a miniature video-camera. "I was filming my fiance over at the science museum last night when a huge accident happened. I think I caught some of it on film and wasn’t sure if you’d need it."</p><p>Speed nodded. "Rain can take your evidence. I’m not working the accident." He turned his dark eyes on the surprised Rick Stetler. "Calleigh’s in charge of that case." As the current supervisor, Speed had the right to assign cases as he would, but the supervisor still had jurisdiction over every case, so to head off Rick’s questions, Speed added, "my nephew was one of the victims." Speed watched the IAB man’s reaction: had he known about TJ’s kid?</p><p>Apparently not. Rick fought surprise and confusion before settling on a frown as he straightened his back. "I wasn’t aware your brothers had children." Rick stressed the plural, indicating he still hadn’t forgiven Speed for hiding the fact that he’d had more than one sibling.</p><p>With a shrug, Speed turned away from Rick, back to Sarah. "Rain’ll ask you some questions and take your evidence."</p><p>The woman nodded and turned back to the red-headed investigator, holding out the camera. "I remember," she said, and her comment was for Speed.</p><p>Looking over the group, Speed finally turned towards the elevators. He’d caught his breath after the unexpected, but not infrequent, chest spasm he’d had on the way down the office steps. Now he moved at a faster pace, his body held in an easier posture, reminiscent of his old attitude.</p><p>Maxi looked at the others and smiled nervously then ran after Speed, still silent about the secondary DNA match she’d gotten. She doubted he’d want the information public before Calleigh determined what to do with it.</p><p>Rain turned back to Sarah and gestured with one hand towards the interrogation rooms. "Your turn, Miss Piper." Rain walked practically beside Sarah as the two headed off.</p><p>Ryan looked from Rick to Frank to Sam to the Service Desk administrator. Finally he looked back at Rick. "Sorry, sir, we have evidence to review." With that, he tugged Sam’s lab coat sleeve and the pair moved off to the Audio Visual Lab. They could wait for Rain and the security video, as well as the new evidence, there. Ryan hoped Delko and Tyler wouldn’t mind their presence: the pair was still working on the grisly job of reconstructing the accident on video.</p><p>Frank crossed his arms, standing solidly in front of Rick. The tall Texan never spoke, but his frown showed his disapproval as clearly as any words would have.</p><p>Nervously, Rick cleared his throat then walked away, heading towards the elevators. He wanted to find out more about this unlisted nephew Speed mentioned. And Frank made him uncomfortable.</p><p>Once the IAB investigator was out of sight, Frank let out a soft grunt, nodded to the administrator, then headed towards Audio-Visual to wait for Rain and the evidence she carried. A small smile played about Frank’s mouth as he recalled the disgruntled look on Rick’s face.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Fighting Uphill</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Miami</p><p>“Following me, Valera?” Speed asked drily, hitting the call button for the elevator.</p><p>A light flush swarmed over the brunette’s face and she responded, “not really. I’m going to Calleigh with a new hit on the kid from the crash. Maternal.” She wasn’t sure how she would answer if Speed demanded to see the results.</p><p>He didn’t. Instead, with a nod, Tim Speedle walked through the open elevator door and said, “good. The more information, the better. We need to get him back to his family if we can. If his mother’s alive, willing, and able.”</p><p>Maxi joined speed in the elevator and watched as he hit the button for the ballistic’s lab floor. She blurted out, “aren’t you curious who your brother was with?”</p><p>Turning unfathomable brown eyes on the tall, slender woman, Speed merely watched her for several uncomfortable seconds. Finally, he asked, “should I know? I’m not on the case.”</p><p>Stunned, Maxi met Speed’s gaze full force. “You’re not even curious?”</p><p>“I was born curious,” Speed retorted with a frown. “It’s why I’m a good CSI. But I also don’t need Stetler slapping the lab with charges, which will happen if I nose in where I don’t belong.”</p><p>“And where don’t you belong?” Calleigh’s voice broke over the two, drawing their attention to the fact that the door had opened while they spoke.</p><p>“On the crash case. I’m related to the boy.” Speed handed over the first DNA result sheet as Maxi offered Calleigh the second.</p><p>Calleigh reviewed both results and her eyes widened. “Does Megan know yet?”</p><p>“Megan?” Speed felt his insides clench and he hunched his shoulders in unconscious self-defense. The way Calleigh had said the name led Speed to believe that she meant Megan Donner. “Why should Megan be told?”</p><p>Calleigh met Speed’s worried eyes and gently said, “she’s the mother, Tim.” At the shock in her friend’s eyes, the petite woman added, “your brother’s?”</p><p>Stiffening, Speed growled, “has to be. I never slept with Megan.” <i>’Thought that didn’t stop her from trying,’</i> he thought to himself.</p><p>Biting her lip, Valera stayed silent through the entire exchange. She wished she hadn’t been doing DNA at all. The misery in Speed’s eyes would haunt her for some time, and questions raced through her head. She didn’t really remember Megan Donner. All she knew was that the woman had run the lab and quit when her husband died. Maxi had heard Speed and Megan were friends; she must have heard wrong.</p><p>“Tim, are you recusing yourself from this crime case?” Calleigh suddenly asked.</p><p>“Yes,” Speed hadn’t hesitated in his answer. Unlike H, Speed didn’t remove himself from the workings of the rest of the lab. “Just this case, though. I’m putting you in charge. But I’m going to inform Rain to make herself available as your lead assistant. I don’t want you taking on too much stress.”</p><p>Unoffended by his overprotective attitude, Calleigh agreed whole-heartedly. “I’ll let Rain know. It’s near the end of shift. I’m going to insist you take the rest of the day and go meet your nephew. See what he can tell you.” The petite blonde held up a hand, “I know you aren’t on the case, but he might open up at any time, so take notes if you can.” She knew Speed’s incredible memory would aid him with that particular task.</p><p>Nodding, not protesting being relieved from duty early, though Speed was somewhat of a workaholic and never left early, the six foot tall man turned and offered a very brief flash of a smile to Valera. He punched the number for the main floor and let the elevator doors close, leaving the two women in ballistics.</p><p>Maxi’s heart flipped at that brief, but devastating smile. “Has he got a girlfriend?” she asked, not expecting an answer.</p><p>With a low chuckle, Calleigh said, “he’s engaged and has a baby. But, yeah, when he smiles, girls’ heads turn.” She led Valera to the sign in desk and gestured for her to sit down. Calleigh slid back into her own seat. Once seated, Calleigh began to review all aspects of the DNA, including the boy’s, for the huge case; there had been several unspecified blood smears they had to pinpoint.</p>
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</div>In the interrogation room, Sarah Piper worriedly took in the five foot four inch redhead put in charge of her. She said, “I know this is about the accident last night, but, please? Is he okay? He looks so sick.”<p>Rain eyed the woman for a long moment then relented, something her fellow investigators would be stunned by. “He was shot and should be dead. He’s recovering slowly.” Pausing a little to let the witness absorb the information, Rain then added, “ do you need some time?”</p><p>Straightening, offering a weak smile, Sarah shook her head “No, Rain. May I call you Rain?”</p><p>“That is my name. You may use it,” Rain agreed stoically.</p><p>“Tim Speedle helped me during a murder case last year. I'm glad he’s alive. I . . . remember him a lot healthier.”</p><p>“Naturally that would shock you,” Rain agreed. The conversation didn’t make her uncomfortable, though her fellow investigators often thought she hated small talk. Actually, Rain liked communication but when she worked, she preferred to get straight to the point and solve her case. For the moment, she saw the value in letting Sarah Piper adjust. After another long moment, Rain offered, “I’ve only known him for a few months, since he came out of witness protection. He seems a good man who cares for people.”</p><p>Sudden fear laced Sarah’s eyes and she asked in a hushed tone, “Rain, is his shooter still out there?”</p><p>Thinking back over the two very different shootings involving Speed and his twin, Rain finally answered, “no. Speed should be safe.”</p><p>“Speed?” Sarah gave a short bark of laughter without merriment to it. “He doesn’t live up to the nickname. I don’t know if he did, actually.” She met Rain’s eyes. “He was methodical and thoughtful when he helped me. Though he did jump to my defense rather quickly.”</p><p>Rain didn’t point out the nature of Speed’s nickname; it would be evident to Sarah if she thought about it. Instead, she lifted the bag containing the camera. “Are you ready to help his nephew and the other victims, Ms. Piper?”</p><p>Determination lit the woman's eyes and she nodded, “tell me what I need to do, Rain. I want to help.”</p><p>“All you need do,” Rain replied, “is answer some questions . . . and allow us to process this camera.”</p><p>Sarah smiled grimly and said, “why don’t we send the camera off for processing while you ask? It would be <i>speedier</i> I think.”</p><p>With a snort, Rain gave a half-smile to piper for her humor. “Why don’t we?” she agreed and hurried to do just that, leaving Sarah in the interrogation room for the moment.</p><p>Walking into the Audio-Visual Department, Rain signed over the camera. She took in the ever changing accident scene on the computer station Tyler Jensen sat working. “A witness took video at the scene last night and claims she might have captured the accident.”</p><p>All four men turned to the woman, Tyler and Delko pausing in surprise. Tyler shot from his chair to the sign in table and carefully notated that he processed the evidence. He moved back to his work station, but to a different computer, and began working on the film. “Not stills?” He asked without looking away from his work. “Actual video? And where was she in relation?” He looked up at the screen and the footage answered both of his questions.</p><p>A nice looking Asian-American man came into view as the footage started. He walked easily across the top of the wall where the museum sign sat. Laughing down at the person filming him, the man, dressed in casual winter clothes and a cheap top hat, bowed, doffing his hat. “I am not in the slightest drunk, Pipe,” he soberly if amusedly informed the camera.</p><p>Sarah Piper’s voice answered with a laugh, “I can see that.”</p><p>A loud honking from behind the woman drew the camera’s view. The accident was hard to see over the wall, but a truck seemed to blast through a group over lower vehicles, distinguishable only by their lights. Then a motorcycle flipped over the wall, skidded a ways, and soared with great speed into the trees on the other side, losing first the smaller passenger before disappearing from view. The screams started, the music rose louder, and Sarah’s voice said, “my God, call nine-one-one, Leon! I don’t know who hit that motorcycle but someone’s in trouble!” The footage stopped.</p><p>Tyler shook his head, “well, that didn’t show much we didn’t already know.” He frowned at the long battle still ahead of them.</p><p>“Play it back to the beginning of the accident, freeze frame as she swings over,” Rain instructed.</p><p>Tyler nodded, “saw something,” he affirmed without question. The tech did as instructed and they watched the footage, frame by frame.</p><p>“There!” Tyler and Rain claimed simultaneously. Tyler pointed to a vehicle just topping the wall heading towards the wall, pushing between the large Mack Truck and the line of opposing traffic - - including the motorcycle it sent flying. The lights of the black vehicle continued on, past the sight and out of frame.</p><p>“She caught the actual crime as it happened all right,” Ryan breathed.</p><p>“Now, we put it together with the CCTV footage that should be arriving shortly,” Rain said, a hint of satisfaction in her tone.</p><p>Delko said, “I’m going to track the CCTV footage, see how long it will take. Ryan, are you able to help Tyler?”</p><p>“Yes,” Ryan instantly agreed and turned towards the reconstruction station. “Tell me where you are,” he instructed the tech.</p><p>Delko hurried from the room with Rain, at a calmer pace, on his heels. He branched off to do his errand while Rain headed back to her witness.</p>
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</div>Arriving at the hospital, Tim Speedle took a steadying breath and made his steady way into the building. He didn’t feel any fonder of hospitals after the numerous recent visits he’d been forced to endure. Pushing away his own predilections, the dark-haired man made his way directly to the children’s wing. He presented his credentials to the charge nurse and murmured, “the John Doe child. We’ve had DNA evidence run and found a match.” He presented the official copy presented to him by Calleigh after their brief discussion.<p>The woman looked over the copy and then back at the still presented credentials. “Oh!”</p><p>“He’s my brother's son,” Tim explained, paused, then added, “my twin brother’s.”</p><p>She nodded and pushed back both items to give a wide smile up at the investigator. “I’m glad you are able to be here. He still hasn’t woken, but he’s been showing signs of coming around. Is your brother on the way?”</p><p>“My brother was shot and killed last year,” Speed stated, matter-of-factly. “And we are locating the boy’s mother now. May I know about his injuries?”</p><p>Nodding, the woman said, “I can tell you some things, Mr. Speedle, but I can’t tell you much without the mother’s permission.”</p><p>“I understand. His case is very complicated.” Speed waited.</p><p>The nurse didn’t disappoint. “Out of the three children, Mr. Speedle, he was the least injured. Whoever had charge of him had apparently given him enough alcohol based medicine or actual liquor to keep him pliant. He was apparently limp when the accident happened, maybe even asleep.”</p><p>Speed didn’t let excitement show in his voice. Instead, he softly asked, “asleep on a motorcycle?”</p><p>With a nod, the nurse responded, “we’ve speculated he might have been tied on or held in front of the driver. We’re not sure until the boy wakes up. He’s got scrapes and bruises, mainly, but the jacket and helmet protected him, despite both being over sized. Your nephew is a very lucky little boy, Mr. Speedle.”</p><p>“Yes. And I intend to see that luck continue, ma’am. Thank you.” Speed pocketed his credentials and DNA proof then walked into the room, already knowing the number from spotting H’s children listed on the board above the nurse’s station. He walked to the door and stopped, looking in at the four bed room and the occupants.</p><p>By the window laid seven-year-old Madison, hugging Horatio and crying. Pain unrelated to the shooting lanced Tim’s heart; the girl must know her mother had died. A tall, blond man sat between the bed and the window; Speed didn’t know him. In the bed next to Madison’s laid HR, watching his father comfort the little girl. The boy’s wide blue eyes held tears, as well. Across the room, in the bed directly in front of HR’s, laid a dark-haired boy with lightly tanned skin, no more than eight years old.</p><p>Speed headed for that bed.</p><p>No one except the tall blond seemed aware of Speed as the six-foot tall brunet slipped into the empty chair beside his nephew’s bed. He leaned over and hesitated then placed his hand over the boy’s abdomen. “Hey, kiddo,” he murmured softly. “We never met, but I’m your uncle. We can talk about why I never visited when you’re feeling better, okay? I’ll listen to all your stories and adventures. You just gotta open your eyes, kiddo.”</p><p>The nurse had been right; the boy had been on the verge of waking, but to others it might have seemed a miracle. As Speed spoke, the boy’s eyes flickered open revealing confusion in the brown depths. Speed offered the boy a gentle smile and repeated, “hey. Don’t be scared. I’m your Uncle Tim Speedle. You were in an accident and are in the hospital. You’re going to be okay.”</p><p>Meeting Speed’s eyes, the boy rasped out, “thirsty.”</p><p>Nodding, Speed looked around for water and met the sympathetic blue eyes of the towering blond. The man offered a cup with straw to Speed, without comment, and Speed nodded his gratitude. He turned and aided the boy to sit up in the bed. As Speed supported the slight, shaking weight, the boy sipped at the straw.</p><p>The boy finally pulled back and studied Speed: they looked like they could be related, they’re coloring was almost identical. “I’m Tony,” the boy said softly. “You really my uncle? ‘Cause I heard that before.”</p><p>“Really?” Speed studied the boy, his tone interested. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Tony. And about your adventures . . . and the man who said he was your uncle. And whatever else you want to talk about.”</p><p>He hit the exact right note with the boy by <i>not</i> insisting on hearing about the accident right off. Instead, the apparently lonely little boy began to talk about anything and everything, quite willing to open up and trust this stranger who claimed to be related.</p><p>Speed fought a combination of grief for the lonely child and anger at every single person who’d put the child in this spot. There would be some answers as soon as he had Tony comfortably settled - - and the first person to do some answering would be Megan Donner.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Shattered Perceptions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Miami and Monday, January 2, 2006: Miami<br/>.<br/><i>Mia Vita</i> - My Life (Italian)<br/><i>Mi Alma</i> - My Soul (Spanish)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Miami</p><p>Stroking his hand gently over the eight-year-olds black curls, Speed softly said, “you’ve been a real adventurer, Tony. Just like <i>Nemo</i>. Why don’t you rest and talk to HR. He’s the boy across from you. Madison is next to him on the other bed.” Speed stood and watched as Tony looked over his roommates then offered a yawn and a soft greeting to the red-haired boy.</p><p>“I’ll be back soon,” Speed claimed to the room at large. He walked into the hall and pulled his phone from his pocket, his soft smile falling away into a fierce scowl. Slipping into an unoccupied visitor waiting room, Speed dialled a number he’d had little reason to even look at in the last few years.</p><p>On the second ring, a female’s confused voice answered, “Megan Donner. Tim Speedle?” She sounded uncertain, and he realized she might not have gotten the news.</p><p>“The report of my death has been greatly exaggerated,” Speed quoted Mark Twain.</p><p>“Ass,” Megan grumbled bitterly. “You aren’t dead? It was in the papers that you were shot.”</p><p>“I was. I lived. Megan, I wanna know about the kid.” Speed didn’t feel like being cordial even with his one time friend. The case and Tom’s involvement aggravated him.</p><p>“Kid?” Megan sounded less bitter, more hesitant. “What kid?”</p><p>“A boy with your DNA, Megan. Name of Anthony,” Speed pressed, his tone a soft growl. “He’s in the hospital from a big accident last night. I had to pull myself off the case when his DNA popped up.”</p><p>“Can we do this in person, at least?” Megan sighed, sounding harried. “I think this needs to be a face to face brawl, Tim.”</p><p>“Good idea,” Speed sighed. “I’m at the hospital at the children's ward with Tony.” Pausing, realizing something by the conversation they’d just had, Speed asked, “you had no idea he was hurt. Did you even know he was with that guy?”</p><p>“Tim, give me time to get to the hospital and we’ll talk.” Megan hung up without letting him respond.</p><p>Speed growled again and hung up. He immediately dialed another number and waited for his fiancee to answer.</p><p>“Timothy,” she responded, a gentle smile in her voice even over the phone.</p><p>“<i>Mia Vita</i>,” he breathed out, needing her soothing calm. He rarely spoke Italian, but he used the term of endearment seriously.</p><p>His fiancee immediately replied, “<i>Mi Alma</i>,” then let him speak. He very rarely called her while working.</p><p>“You’re going to hear about that accident I got called to. A lot of cars in one big crash. Several people died, including a motorcyclist. <i>Mia Vita</i>, the child on the motorcycle survived.” He paused, listening to her response. She could always help him destress.</p><p>“Is he hurt so very badly, <i>Mi Alma</i>?”</p><p>“No, not badly. One of the least injured due to circumstances I can’t discuss yet.” Speed drew a breath and added, “<i>Mia Vita</i>, his DNA shows he’s related to me. I’m trying to find out more.”</p><p>“Oh, Timothy, <i>Mi Alma</i>. You are with him now? You stay by him and I will come when you call.”</p><p>Imagining the beautiful dark haired woman with the soulful brown eyes, Speed let a smile play over his face. “I will. Give Elizabieta a kiss, <i>Mia Vita</i>.” Speed hung up. He touched the phone to his forehead, bowing his head and closing his eyes in a brief moment of either weakness or prayer.</p>
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</div>Sunday, January 1, 2006: Miami<p>Not ten minutes passed before a nurse showed Megan to the shared children’s hospital room. She took in the sight of the three injured children and H sitting with the girl in his arms, sleeping in exhaustion after her crying jag. Megan didn’t know the tall blond man and merely nodded a greeting to him as she said, “Horatio. Tim.”</p><p>Speed stood up from beside Tony’s bed, the little boy sleeping once more. He stroked Tony’s curls and walked over to his former boss and friend. “Megan. You’ll want time with him? He just fell asleep again, but he was awake for some time.”</p><p>Eyes roving over the child in the bed, taking in his dark features so like Speed’s, she finally shook her head. ”He’s asleep. Let’s go talk.” She turned and walked out of the room, missing Speed’s fierce frown and Horatio’s exchange of surprised looks with his friend, Sergei.</p><p>Tim Speedle followed Megan Donner into the hall and then into that same empty waiting room as before.</p><p>After the door shut, Megan rubbed a hand over her face and sighed. She looked at Speed and said, brusquely, “tell me what you can about the accident.”</p><p>Frown deepening, Speed said, “the lab and the force were called to a multi-vehicle accident by the Science Museum. It happened around midnight. Alexx’s husband died, Megan.”</p><p>“Fuck,” Megan breathed, eyes turning sympathetic for their absent long-time friend. “Her kids? Alexx?”</p><p>“None of them were in the car with Jeffrey. Horatio’s kids were. And you saw them.” Watching Megan’s hands rather than her face, Speed added, “there was a child who died, but I don’t know if you knew her. I don’t have her name. Several adults were killed, including the man Tony was with. The only reason Tony lived was he’d been wrapped in so much protective gear and drugged.”</p><p>“Drugged?” Megan looked surprised at that. She frowned and glanced to the door. “And the driver was killed?”</p><p>Confused by her reaction, her apparent neutrality to Tony, Speed studied Megan, worry beginning to take over his annoyance. “You never mentioned being pregnant, Megan.”</p><p>Suddenly, anger swept over the dark haired woman and she whirled to Speed, glaring at him. “You never asked, did you?”</p><p>“Why should I?” Speed looked shocked. “You made it quite clear that your relationship with Shawn was none of my business, and I had no idea you . . .”</p><p>“Come off it, Tim! Don’t play innocent victim with me. Until you suddenly turned into a prude at that party, you were quite willing to spend the night drinking and playing.” She crossed her arms and shook her head, looking disgusted as Speed looked first confused then angry.</p><p>Holding up a hand, Speed interrupted, “Megan. Let’s stop right here. Start again, okay? You’re angry with me for rejecting you at H’s party. I get that. I got angry with you when I found out, the next day in fact, that you were already married.”</p><p>“You knew! You knew all along and always said it didn’t bother you. It turned you on to know I was married!” Megan hissed in a stage whisper, not wanting her voice to carry past the door and give away their business.</p><p>“Megan, please. I’m trying to sort this out. I never told you about Tom,” Speed tried again, pushing down his frustration.</p><p>“Tom.” Megan crossed her arms and glared at Speed. “Okay. I’ll bite. Who’s Tom?”</p><p>Speed drew a breath and opened the file he had with him. It contained the DNA evidence for Tony as well as some documentation from the lab he felt he would need. He turned the open folder to Megan and answered, “Tony’s father.”</p><p>Megan looked shell shocked then livid. She grabbed the folder. “<i>You</i> are Tony’s father!”</p><p>“No, Megan. We never had sex. I couldn’t be his father. Tom is. Look further. I have proof. You see,” Speed reached over to flip to the second page and the matched DNA records for him and his twin. “Tom was my twin brother. And he delighted in screwing me over and hurting my friends.”</p><p>Opening her mouth in disbelief, ready to protest the convenience of an unknown twin, Megan’s eyes caught on the official seal on the records and the names printed. She began leafing through the papers and grew noticeably paler as she came across the information about Tim’s shooting and Tom’s death. Alexx had written up a brief report on the results of Tom’s autopsy and had, thoughtfully if morbidly, included a picture of the corpse before autopsy. The abdominal scar and tattoo were very evident. “You recognize that scar and the tattoo?”</p><p>“Of course,” Megan glared at the picture. “Appendicitis and a tattoo you got back in New York.”</p><p>“Give me a chance and don’t yell. I’m going to prove that’s not me,” Speed instructed softly. He unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off, revealing his standard T-shirt and secondary undershirt underneath. Speed always preferred to wear layers. As Megan watched in distrust, Speed pulled off the other two shirts and stood, waiting.</p><p>Her eyes flickered down to his right quadrant and widened in surprise. Megan walked over and reached out to touch his unscarred abdomen. She lifted her eyes, taking in the shot wound over his heart and the open heart surgery scars. Then she stepped around him and felt his naked shoulder where Tom had his <i>Tanglewood</i> tattoo. She ran her hands over the bare spot again, obviously checking for signs of a tattoo removal.</p><p>Speed gave her the time to check his identifiers against Tom’s in both the photograph and her memory. After a long moment, he said softly, “Tom is Tony’s father, Megan. Not me. He messed with you, must have let you believe he was me. When you approached at H’s party, you thought you were with him.”</p><p>“Oh, god!” Megan’s hoarse whisper seemed torn from her. “Tim! I . . . all this time . . . I thought you’d been messing with me for some sick reason. Hell, I nearly lost Shawn after that party. He found out about us . . . or me and  - - Tom.”</p><p>“I know. I told him you'd been hitting on me,” Speed admitted without guilt. “I always believed in being faithful, Megan. I felt you two needed to work that out. I had thought you were drunk and hitting on me. I didn’t know it had been a long term relationship.” He met her wounded eyes and saw the flash of anger then regret in them.</p><p>“But now, it’s not about me or you. It’s about Tony. I don’t know if that man was your boyfriend or just a friend, but . . .”</p><p>“I don’t know who had him, Tim,” Megan murmured. She looked through the papers then closed the folder and offered it back.</p><p>“What? We didn’t get a hit matching a kidnapping to his description,” Speed’s frown deepened and he took his paperwork.</p><p>Megan looked at Speed, her expression incredulous. “Kidnapped? Tim, I didn't raise them! I went to Hawaii on a teaching sabbatical and placed them up for adoption there. I . . . couldn’t tell Shawn so he never knew I was pregnant.”</p><p>“<i>Them</i>,” Speed intoned slowly. He met her eyes and ground out, “twins? You had twins and gave them up without trying to tell me about them, and you thought they were mine? You never gave me a chance to raise what you perceived as my own children?”</p><p>“Don’t go there, Timothy Speedle! You had rejected me. Turns out your brother did, too, though I thought it was you as well. Never wanted anything to do with me after that party. I gave them up because I <i>couldn’t</i> lose Shawn, too!”</p><p>“Well, whoever had Tony is dead now and we have no idea where the other twin is. Tony never mentioned a twin. The kid could be alone at home and in trouble.” Speed pulled his phone out and turned his back on Megan, calling Calleigh’s number directly. Before his fellow investigator could answer, he turned his head and looked at his former friend. “Looks like Tom screwed up more lives than even he knew. If he was alive, he’d been howling in glee, the bastard. Is Tony’s twin a girl or a boy, Megan?”</p><p>“Boy. I named them Joseph and Anthony,” Megan sighed and hugged herself. "I gave them to a facility on Oahu.”</p><p>“Are you gonna contest me for the rights to them, Megan?” Speed looked at her. “Because I’m going to try to get custody of my nephews.” The sound of Calleigh’s voice interrupted Speed and he switched to informing her about the twins.</p>
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</div>Monday, January 2, 2006: Miami<p>The afternoon sun streamed through the high windows of the courthouse, scattering shards of brightness over chairs, tables, and paperwork. A small gathering, contrary to most entertainment media, sat around one table with a raised podium situated before the judge at the head of the table. A court reporter used audio-visual equipment to record the proceedings, ensuring the ability to transcribe the case later. Along one side of the table sat the business-suit clad Peg and across from her sat Horatio, dressed in an equally nice, if hastily donned, suit and his sister-in-law, Yelina, also in a dress suit. The only other people present were the two lawyers, one for each side.</p><p>Glancing over the papers that had been presented to him, the judge studied every piece of evidence listed. He reviewed the claimed he-said-she-said encounters and statements.</p><p>Among the more damning pieces of evidence was a claim that the male party, Horatio, had allowed the child in question, HR, to leave safety during a hurricane and also to go to the crime lab on the day a criminal began shooting staff members and witnesses, endangering the child. Horatio also engaged in an extramarital affair which led to a child, Madison, being born out of wedlock and Horatio keeping the mistress, Susie, and Madison in close contact with HR, corrupting his moral upbringing. The last big claim, among many others, was that Horatio had missed, without warning, an emergency meeting called by the lawyers to discuss the child custody case on the day before, previously agreed on by both parties.</p><p>The claims against the female party, Margaret, were that she often traveled for work and left HR with various people whom HR expressed did not treat him well. A child psychologist report had been attached to that claim, supporting HR’s fears and claims of neglect. Margaret has been believed to lie to HR as well as adults caring for him. Several affidavits had been attached to that claim, supporting the suppositions of falsehoods. The final claim against Margaret was that she did not show a concern for the welfare of the child in question unless it suited her. Attached were statements, written by Horatio and several emergency responders and hospital staff members. These dealt with the recent automobile accident which injured HR the night before the emergency legal meeting. According to Horatio’s statement, the reason he did not show up at the meeting was because he was at the hospital bedside of HR and Madison. Nurses’ statements supported the last statement.</p><p>Looking up, the judge sighed and placed the papers carefully on his podium. He studied both parties, noting the tired exhaustion of the male party and the energized near-smugness of the female party.</p><p>“Mr. Caine,” the Judge finally addressed the male party.</p><p>“Your Honor,” H replied slowly, his tone respectful.</p><p>“I see you have added a statement that you plan to petition for custody of the child, Madison Keaton, who was in the car accident Horatio Junior was in. As you know, there is a claim before this court concerning the child’s legitimacy and the advisability of having her near Horatio Junior.</p><p>With a nod, Horatio stood slowly and offered a folder to the judge who took it readily enough. “Your Honor, these papers will show DNA evidence that the child, Madison, is blood related to me and I am her only living relative aside from her half-brother and her cousin. Also contained there are records of my financial care of the child and her mother since finding out about the child in November of 2003. I believe these documents show that I am and will be a good provider for Madison while still being a good provider for Horatio Junior, as I have been doing so since the discovery of either child.”</p><p>“Your Honor, he is admitting to the child’s illegitimacy!” Peg called out, earning a glare from Yelina and a frown from the judge.</p><p>The judge looked into the file and read through the papers presented, as H defended himself. “I never said she wasn’t what is legally termed an illegitimate child, Your Honor. I merely claimed that I wish to raise my blood relative. Especially as her mother is now deceased, her step-father is in federal prison, and her birth father is deceased.”</p><p>“Deceased?” Peg all but sneered. “Come on, Horatio! You just admitted she’s yours. How can you be deceased and claiming her?”</p><p>Looking up, the judge frowned at Peg. “Please desist from your bickering, ma’am. I have the DNA report right in front of me which proves his claim.” He looked at H and clearly stated, “the court recognizes you, Horatio Caine Senior, as the blood uncle of Madison Keaton, daughter of your brother Raymond, deceased, and Susie Barnum-Keaton, also deceased.”</p><p>A gasp erupted from both Yelina and Peg, but neither woman commented. H did not look to his sister-in-law.</p><p>“However,” the judge went on, frowning softly at H, “in light of the severe injuries received by both children in the accident and your position as a single father and head of a busy crime lab, the court questions your ability to properly care for and provide attention to both children in question. Would it not be wiser to allow the boy to go with his mother or the girl to go to foster care?”</p><p>H sank back in his chair, shock written on his face as he stared at the serious face of the custody hearing judge.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Temporary Resolutions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Setting: Monday, January 2, 2006: Miami</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Setting: Monday, January 2, 2006: Miami</p>
<p>Sitting silently for a long moment, H processed the judge’s words. Suddenly, Peg broke the stillness. “Thank you, Your Honor,” she claimed, sounding triumphant. “I appreciate your recognition that I am the better parent for my son.”</p>
<p>“If you interrupt one more time, Ms. Wilson-Caine, I will hold you in contempt,” the judge replied calmly, looking straight at Peg. “I have not made a final decision. I asked a question I expect to be answered. If i need anything further from you, I will not hesitate to ask you.”</p>
<p>Shock coursed over Peg’s face and she sat, looking as if she’d been slapped.</p>
<p>H finally gathered himself. “Your Honor, if my evidence on behalf of my son does not prove that he would be safer and happier in my care, I cannot argue with you on your decision. I love Horatio Junior and will do whatever is right for him. I ask you to consider that he has come a long way in my care. The school reports and child psychological reports, I feel, display that he is a healthy, happy, child becoming well adjusted to his life.”</p>
<p>Taking a deep breath, Horatio continued, “as for Madison, she has led, as shown by the second set of documents, a more stable and healthy life once I was able to provide care for her. I cared for her during her leukemia and, with the willing aid of her cousin, Horatio Junior, was able to provide her the needed bone marrow for her recovery. All of her medical bills were paid in full as well, leaving no worry of debt over her or her mother’s head. Her mother’s will specifically lists me as the child’s next of kin and the desired legal guardian should something happen to Susie Barnum-Keaton. I love Madison and wish to provide her the same stable, healthy upbringing and chance of happiness I am providing her cousin, Horatio Junior. If the court feels she would be more secure and happy in a foster home, I will relent.”</p>
<p>He met the judge’s eyes, “however, Your Honor, know this. I will not give up on trying to get my children back. I will adjust whatever needs adjusting to meet the court and CPS requirements so I can provide what they need.”</p>
<p>Peg looked like she wanted to speak or go to the restroom. She literally squirmed in her seat. Finally, she shot her hand into the air like a school child with an answer.</p>
<p>Quirking an eyebrow in curious amusement, the judge relented. “Yes, Ms. Wilson-Caine?”</p>
<p>“I love Junior, Your Honor. I have a stable job and home and responsible babysitters when I cannot be present. I want my son. Let Horatio take the girl. That’s a fair split.” Peg fairly spit the words out in her haste to be heard.</p>
<p>Nodding, the judge looked over the three sets of documents in a cursory fashion then said, “Ms. Wilson-Caine. How did you spend the evening of December thirty-first, 2005?”</p>
<p>Straightening, Peg said, “as my son was supposedly in the care of a responsible guardian, I chose to go to a party with friends. I had only two alcoholic drinks: one when I first arrived and one at midnight to celebrate the New Year.”</p>
<p>“Very well, Ms. Wilson-Caine. Tell me about the next day. The first of January, 2006,” the judge met her eyes, his expression neutral.</p>
<p>“I slept through the very early morning hours, from about half an hour after midnight to about seven. I got up and prepared for the lawyer’s meeting reported in the evidence packet. I went to the meeting and Horatio never arrived. The lawyers expressed displeasure and I agreed. After the meeting, I checked my messages and found missed messages from the evening, several about my son being injured. I went to the hospital to check on Junior.”</p>
<p>Peg stopped, but when the judge didn’t say anything, she continued. “I got in an argument with Horatio and left for the gym. Then I went back to the hospital to check on Junior. I spent about two hours there then went back home for lunch, as I am on a special diet and did not want to chance the hospital food. I worked on a news article for work and had dinner then went to bed.”</p>
<p>The dark-haired woman fell silent and waited, watching the judge intently.</p>
<p>“Mr. Caine, how did you spend the evening and following day of New Year’s Eve and New Year’s 2006?” the judge looked directly at Horatio.</p>
<p>“I was home with my girlfriend watching television. My children were at a children’s costume party with Susie, hosted by Alexx Woods and her husband. Susie was supposed to bring the children back home and spend the night in the guest room. There was no time limit placed on her, but it was understood that she would arrive no later than one in the morning, giving the children a chance, if they wished, to watch the ball drop.”</p>
<p>Without waiting for more than a breath, H continued, “I got the call, just after midnight, that there had been a severe car accident. I left home and went to the scene, where I found that HR, Madison, Susie, and Alexx’s husband were victims. Mr. Woods and Susie died at the scene, Your Honor, and as soon as we got the children out of the car I went to the hospital. I accompanied Madison as she didn’t know any of the others and was terrified. Alexx Woods accompanied HR, whom she was familiar with, so he wouldn’t be without a friendly face. At the hospital I had both children placed in the same room, as well as the other surviving child victim. I spent the rest of the early morning and the entire day and night in the hospital, taking sabbatical from work so I could concentrate on my children. I only left them to make this hearing, though, I admit, I didn’t attend the lawyer’s meeting. At this time they are being watched over, in the hospital, by our friend Tim Speedle, one of the investigators at the lab, and another family friend, a US Marshal named Sergei Gideon they both met last May. I am still on sabbatical until the danger is past and the children are recovered enough to leave the hospital and feel safe and confident with a trusted adult they know for the times I would be working. I do not know when that will be, but I am prepared to use up all of my leave to wait and care for them.”</p>
<p>Across the table, Peg narrowed her eyes and mouthed the words, <i>‘suck up!’</i></p>
<p>Horatio ignored her.</p>
<p>With a nod, the judge sat back, stacking the three sets of documents into one pile and handing them off to the court reporter. “It is the decision of this court that the child in question, Horatio Caine Junior, be awarded to his father, Horatio Caine Senior, under full custody. The mother, Margaret Wilson-Caine, has visitation rights under supervision and on a court-appointed schedule to be determined at a future hearing.”</p>
<p>As Peg stood and opened her mouth to protest, the judge held up a hand, glaring at her. “It is also the recommendation of this court that custody of the girl, Madison Keaton, be awarded to the person named in her mother’s will as guardian. The court will provide this recommendation for that case.”</p>
<p>“Just like that? The man who continually puts himself in danger and allows the boy to run wild into dangerous situations gets <i>full</i> custody!” Peg sounded incensed, her eyes almost wild in her anger.</p>
<p>“Yes, that is the final decision of the court, Ms. Wilson-Caine,” the judge said, his tone held a hint of reprimand.</p>
<p>“This is not over! I’m going to appeal! Take it to a higher court!” Peg grabbed her belongings, ignoring her harried lawyer, and stormed from the room.</p>
<p>The judge sighed, not bothering to call the woman back despite the fact that he hadn’t dismissed her, “please notate the record that the party of Margaret Wilson-Caine should undergo psychological evaluation and the court recommends that she <i>not</i> be considered for custody or private interaction with the child, Horatio Junior, until he is of legal age to make his own decisions. Dismissed.”</p>
<p>Peg’s lawyer winced but didn’t argue the final decision, secretly agreeing with the judge on Peg’s mental status.</p>
<p>Horatio stood, calmly, “thank you, Your Honor.” He offered assistance to his sister-in-law to rise.</p>
<p>Yelina wisely kept quiet on her personal opinions, merely giving H a quiet “thank you” for his aid then walking with him from the court house and getting into the passenger seat of his car. As he climbed in, not questioning her despite the fact that they’d arrived in separate vehicles, Yelina turned to him. “<i>Ray’s</i>? You never said. Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”</p>
<p>“I was protecting you, Yelina.” H turned and met her dark eyes with his own, worried blue. “But I realized that I couldn’t keep protecting you or Ray. Madison needs me more.”</p>
<p>Unable to say the varied things crashing through her mind and screaming for attention, Yelina remained silent for a long moment. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, “yes, you don’t have to protect me, Horatio. I’m a grown woman. Go to the children. I’m going to spend some time with my own son.” Yelina slipped from the car and hurried to her own, not looking back at the pained look on her brother-in-law’s face.</p>
<p>With a slow sigh, H started up his car and turned his eyes to the road before him.</p>
<p>**********</p>
<p>Setting: Monday, January 2, 2006: Miami</p>
<p>With a soft frown, Speed’s serious brown eyes tracked every movement of the slender blonde he spoke to. She kept gesturing to the papers in her hand, explaining and pointing out and questioning. Fortunately, she had also accepted a copy of Speed’s DNA reports for himself, his twin, and Tony. It wouldn’t get Tony awarded to him that day, but the CPS worker was more inclined to consider the child’s uncle instead of putting Tony back in foster care permanently.</p>
<p>Especially as the last foster parent had taken him, without warning, from Hawaii and wound up getting into a motorcycle accident with the child.</p>
<p>The conversation between Speed and the CPS worker took place outside of the childrens’ hospital room, quietly, with the door opened so Speed could monitor when Tony woke again. He glanced up at a call from HR. “Mr. Speedle?”</p>
<p>Speed glanced at the woman with him then turned and headed into the room, offering a gentle smile to the rousing nephew he’d barely met. “Hey, Tony. Feeling better?” He slid into the chair by Tony’s bed, shooting HR a smile and wink, pleasing H’s son.</p>
<p>The worker watched the man and child interacting without interrupting them.</p>
<p>“Tony, can I ask you a big question or two? Are you ready for big questions?” Speed asked.</p>
<p>“Big questions?” the eight year old frowned, eyes worried.</p>
<p>Nodding, Speed said, “I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.” That seemed to draw the child in more so Speed said, “can you tell me if <i>Uncle Jimmy</i> let you drink anything before going on the motorcycle?” Tony had already revealed the driver had been calling himself <i>Uncle Jimmy</i>.</p>
<p>“Yeah, and I didn't like the stuff. He said it was medicine because I got sick on the plane and barfed,” the boy answered readily enough. He apparently didn’t see that question as one of Speed’s <i>big</i> questions, but he did counter with, “do you have kids, Uncle Tim?”</p>
<p>Nodding, Speed said, “I have a daughter. Elizabieta. She’s just a baby.” He glanced over at a sound and seemed surprised to note the CPS worker still there, but Speed didn’t make her stop listening. Instead he turned back to Tony. “You’ve been in foster care a lot, huh?”</p>
<p>“All my life,” Tony sighed, sounding frustrated. “My mom and dad never wanted me, I guess.”</p>
<p>“Well, I can tell you that your mom wasn’t able to take care of you so gave you to people she thought could,” Speed offered, trying to defend his one time friend. He didn’t think his friendship with Megan would ever be salvaged, even after discovering it had been Tom who’d destroyed it. “And your dad died, Tony. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Blinking wide brown eyes, Tony drew in a breath and asked, “was he a soldier? Lisa’s daddy was a soldier and was killed in war.”</p>
<p>Shaking his head, Speed answered, “no, your dad wasn’t a soldier and he didn’t die in war. But we can talk about such a sad thing later, okay? Was <i>Uncle Jimmy</i> your foster father?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I was with him since June. He got me then left home and came here. I miss home sometimes.” Tony studied Speed. “Are you from here?”</p>
<p>With a smile, Speed answered, “I used to live in New York, but I live here now, yes. I’d like to visit Hawaii sometime.”</p>
<p>“Hawaii was home!” Tony sounded excited. ”Oahu! I lived in Oahu!”</p>
<p>Nodding, Speed asked, “did you get to meet Stitch?” He sounded as serious as if the <i>Disney</i> character really existed.</p>
<p>Tony shook his head and sighed. “No. Never got to meet him or Lilo. I think they’re just make believe, Uncle Tim. They <i>are</i> cartoons.” After a beat, Tony asked, “am I going to live with you or go back to foster care?”</p>
<p>Ever honest, if possible, Speed said, “for now, foster care. But I’m already applying for you to come live with me, okay? And I want to keep you if you want to stay, as long as you want to stay. I’m going to get the child protection people to help me figure out how to take care of you the best I can.”</p>
<p>With a solemn look, Tony met Speed’s eyes and slowly nodded. Finally, the little boy, still young enough to be trusting, said, “okay. That sounds good. I guess big people need to learn things, too, huh?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, we do,” Speed agreed. He patted Tony’s foot. “Do you remember Joseph? Maybe he was called Joey?”</p>
<p>The boy lit up like a new bulb. “Yeah! Joey’s my twin. But <i>Uncle Jimmy</i> didn’t want him. So he left him in foster care back home. Do you want Joey, too?”</p>
<p>Smiling softly, Speed said, “yes, I do. I’m trying to find him. Do you know the name of the place you were in?”</p>
<p>Face falling, Tony shook his head. “No. I don’t. Sorry.” He looked like he wanted to cry. ”I miss Joey.”</p>
<p>Speed patted once more. “We’ll start trying to find him. If we can, if the child protection people agree, we’ll put you two back together again, okay, Tony?”</p>
<p>“Okay, Uncle Tim.” Tony yawned then his face lit up when a nurse placed a tray of food on a table and swung it over his lap.</p>
<p>Speed backed off to let his nephew eat, looking over at the case worker. “I’d like to find Joey, too. I want both of my brother’s children, please. The mother gave them up for adoption and I can get an affidavit from her if needed.”</p>
<p>Closing her file, where she’d been unobtrusively taking notes, the woman nodded then rose to her feet. “We'll start the search for Joey and the paperwork and visitations for Tony.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <b>**********</b>
  </p>
</div>Setting: Monday, January 2, 2006: Miami<p>With a frown, Tripp stepped out of the private office, staring at his phone in his hand. The sound of Rain’s voice drew his blue eyes to her face, mouth opening a bit.</p>
<p>“Finally contacting your neglected waifs?”</p>
<p>Snapping his mouth shut, Tripp sent Rain a glare. “Ce-Ce just called me. They are <i>not</i> neglected or waifs,” he growled. “I’m working doubles like everyone else, McGuire. They know that. It’s why they’re still with the Delko sisters.”</p>
<p>“Huh,” Rain said, not giving away her thoughts on Frank leaving his three children in the care of babysitters for two days. “You done playing telephone and wanna help me look over the evidence?”</p>
<p>“You got more in?” Frank asked, turning to follow the much shorter woman towards the AV Lab.</p>
<p>“I’ve been helping put it together cohesively. No more evidence, just makes more sense,” Rain clarified, walking at a slow pace and nearly making the much taller detective trip several times.</p>
<p>Finally entering the lab, Rain headed directly over to Tyler’s station. The tech had gone on break, so the five foot four inch woman slipped into his abandoned seat. “Okay, we’ve put together the accident. Pay attention, Frank.” Rain started the program, which had no colors and only the bare minimum of graphics for the majority of the vehicles.</p>
<p>The accident took place at a slowed down rate, showing the two station wagons, followed by the Mack Truck then the purple compact. In the other direction traveled a red convertible and a yellow pickup truck. Suddenly, at a surprisingly reasonable pace, came a motorcycle from behind the bigger line of traffic, passing the compact then the Mack Truck before passing the station wagons, one then the other. The Mack Truck and compact began to try to pass the station wagons, as well.</p>
<p>Suddenly, from the south, heading northbound like the larger line of traffic, a four by four truck slammed through the group, spinning the convertible directly into the Mack Truck, causing the big rig to hit the pickup head on. The four by four also managed to careen off every single vehicle it passed, leaving paint traces on every vehicle on both sides of the road. It finished by slamming the motorcycle so hard, the lighter vehicle flipped up and over the wall. The four by four disappeared into the night, leaving the mass destruction behind it.</p>
<p>Rain hit the stop button and looked at Tripp. “The evidence shows a black Ford Ranger four by four with massive body damage and a possibly injured driver who, once sober, tried to cover it up. We’ve found CCTV footage along the route from before this scene and after and are tracing the truck as we speak, and,” the Native American woman almost grimaced as she brought up another piece of evidence: a grainy picture of the front of the four by four. “This was snapped by the Museum CCTV after the accident. The plate is distorted but visible. We’re running the few digits that we can read.”</p>
<p>As if on cue, the computer beside Rain beeped loudly, causing Frank to jump in surprise, though Rain seemed to have expected the loud noise. She turned, glanced over the screen then grinned a bit wider, eyes lighting up. In the lights from the computer screens, her eyes took on the cast of unholy glee. She hit the print button and said, “we now have a list of all the black Ford Ranger four by fours with digits in the right places.”</p>
<p>Standing, Rain looked at the unusually silent detective. He blinked at her then said, “grunt. So, how many we need to track down, Rain?”</p>
<p>“One,” she said, sounding satisfied. “We’ve found our bastard.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note: In the SpeedBurn timeline series significant changes occur in various episodes, marking differences in each series. The initial drastically changed episodes are in chronological order: "Bait" (Without a Trace), "Reveille" (NCIS), "Lost Son" (CSI: Miami), "Bodies in Motion" (Crime Scene Investigation), "Summer in the City" (CSI: NY), and "In Name and Blood (In Birth and Death)" (Criminal Minds). Many episodes after those changed are also different. This story is number 29 in the grand scheme. Thank you.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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